tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41985664790975765332024-03-05T10:34:46.829-05:00Peace in a Tin Can>Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-80953096039347889582017-04-21T15:24:00.000-04:002017-04-21T15:24:06.250-04:00The Path of Least Resistance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If you look to nature, you can find many lessons. Nature has existed since the beginning of time, and many of its teachings are unchanged. Without the benefit of intellect, nature just keeps going, by following instincts of survival. It works together with its components; air, water, sun, wind, rocks, trees, plants, animals, insects, birds, everything benefits something else. <br />
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On a recent journey through Algonquin Provincial Park, I was emphatically taught one of nature's lessons. Take the path of least resistance. <br />
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Algonquin Provincial Park, located in Ontario, Canada, is Canada's oldest park, and still one of its biggest. The 60 corridor runs 57 km across the south end of the park; a well-maintained road that gives visitors access to trails, rivers, lakes, campgrounds, camp stores, and even lodging and restaurants. Visitors can experience much of Algonquin right along this corridor. But to really experience the park, you must venture into its interior, either on foot or by canoe. Heading north will take you into a wilderness that is truly wild and remote.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg36onQbfieIfPV_o36cbTo-6EyheNMHdlZVHsTuYtMlexFjrZ1RPJq86GBUXojIfkdRabQKLNSXfRgIaX5cd3A39jIa14KmcOjfjXOLLkSi2OGHcBZ9eWZYZW2TYoxMh3acixgW5B4d_4/s1600/IMG_0273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg36onQbfieIfPV_o36cbTo-6EyheNMHdlZVHsTuYtMlexFjrZ1RPJq86GBUXojIfkdRabQKLNSXfRgIaX5cd3A39jIa14KmcOjfjXOLLkSi2OGHcBZ9eWZYZW2TYoxMh3acixgW5B4d_4/s320/IMG_0273.jpg" width="320" /></a>I had neither the time nor the equipment to paddle to these wild places, but what I experienced on the many trails accessible by road was wild enough. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowmelt under the trail</td></tr>
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Summer, Autumn, and Winter are busy times in the park, but Spring sees far fewer visitors. I was about to learn why. Spring brings snowmelt and rapidly changing weather. In the five days I was there, I hiked in a snowstorm, a thunderstorm, fog, sunshine, warm temperatures, cold temperatures, wind, and calm breezes. The changing weather all contributed to snowmelt, and all that melting snow had to go somewhere. Like most things in nature, the water chose the path of least resistance and flowed freely down the mountains on the designated hiking trails. At least, it flowed down the trail until it hit the icy ridges left behind by the snowshoers. Then the water flowed under the trail, making it very unstable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowmelt coming down the trail</td></tr>
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Hiking was a challenge. Sections of the trail were a high narrow ridge of hard packed snow turned to ice. Step off that ridge to the side and get a boot full of water. Or place your foot in front of you thinking you are still on ice only to have your leg sink into a snowbank up to your thighs. Exposed rocks appeared to provide a stronger surface, but the thin, invisible sheen of ice covering them had you sitting on your bum desperately trying to find your dignity while the rocks mocked your ineptness. Some of those rocks were at the top of the mountain. One slip, and you would become one with nature in a very bad way.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Rivers Trail, a narrow rocky ledge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slippery ice covered rocks</td></tr>
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Fortunately, I had a hiking partner. Fellow adventurer Mike knows Algonquin well, and my friend and guide was sure footed on the trail, helping me cross flooded sections and pulling me out of snow banks. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pine Marten looking for people food</td></tr>
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I began my journey by pulling into the Mew Lake campground in the evening, and the very first thing I saw was a Pine Marten. This cute little creature was trying to teach me something about following the path of least resistance while he foraged for his food near the garbage cans. As I searched for a site, I ignored the Pine Marten's advice and found that all the campsites were snowy and wet. As the week wore on, my site opened up more and more as the snow melted away. Then my site became an extension of the lake. When setting up camp, always look for a site with as few obstacles as possible. Or at the very least, don't plan to go camping during the snowmelt in Canada. When will I learn? I spent the first night drying my boots over the fire, looking at maps of the park, selecting trails, and planning my hikes to get the most kilometers under my feet in a short amount of time. Mike would prove to be helpful in this area. I had one goal, in addition to hiking and exploring and experiencing all that Algonquin is; I wanted to see a moose, a real, live moose.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUF42I6s-AE3EzKgqXs10a1eUQ60l66K7NwCPeyNSw0c-EACTsYAQxrs-2G6R2Vk9XZZ0x1APsDQIjhuYML3uPmMWYJ4mFIdwBxzHSNWKscTZXir4NA3Hi4k1s9KvIwrN640djWWF417M/s1600/IMG_0275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUF42I6s-AE3EzKgqXs10a1eUQ60l66K7NwCPeyNSw0c-EACTsYAQxrs-2G6R2Vk9XZZ0x1APsDQIjhuYML3uPmMWYJ4mFIdwBxzHSNWKscTZXir4NA3Hi4k1s9KvIwrN640djWWF417M/s320/IMG_0275.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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As I hiked all week, either alone or with Mike, I encountered examples of nature's lesson to seek the path of least resistance. The trees that grew at an angle, seeking a sliver of sunlight in a crowded forest. <br />
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The tree roots that grew on top of the rocks, rather than try to push through them.</div>
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The fog, which swirled and slinked over, under, and around everything.<br />
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But my favorite example of nature's path of least resistance was the moose markings. I found tracks and scat and rubs and feeding signs all along the trail. Apparently moose don't like to bushwhack any more than people do. They followed the designated trails. I am pretty sure moose are colorblind and weren't looking for the blue blazes marking the trail. They simple followed the easiest path. And when they had to relieve themselves, they did so right in the middle of the trail.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose scat on the trail<br /></td></tr>
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All week, I hiked, looking for a moose. I hiked lowlands, marshes, river banks, forests, and mountaintops. Treacherous trail conditions made it feel like I was not on the path of least resistance. I slipped, slid, climbed, got wet, sunk, fell on my knees, my face, my shoulder. I had to be carried across a river on Mike's back, since he chose the path of least resistance by wearing the proper boots and I did not. I stopped, I waited, I listened. I look at tracks and scat and followed. I enjoyed myself immensely, but I did not see a moose.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />The morning I was set to leave, I decided to hike one more trail alone, ever hopeful that I would see a moose in the early light, maybe going to the river for a drink. As I approached the trail, a new sign had been tacked up at the trailhead.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ03zSWWNODjoXiXilg1dVWxUAO1HgnXsXwBf20I55M3b6T9DOy0hd59vD9jmTMhvWVYj1OMyt7O0hLkslXcEuG8_5N1CWuWFoOa9d5xAUhtZlBDraAuUYvSrCpTZeKzQjz3EY3_X0XFM/s1600/IMG_0476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ03zSWWNODjoXiXilg1dVWxUAO1HgnXsXwBf20I55M3b6T9DOy0hd59vD9jmTMhvWVYj1OMyt7O0hLkslXcEuG8_5N1CWuWFoOa9d5xAUhtZlBDraAuUYvSrCpTZeKzQjz3EY3_X0XFM/s320/IMG_0476.jpg" width="240" /></a>This wasn't news to me. I had been hiking under these conditions all week. But what was new was the 10 trails that had actually been closed, due to flooding. I had already hiked through water, so I started hiking the Whiskey Rapids trail, even though it was posted as closed. How bad could it be?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqH5WF01ta0FtZv37xgUgG4CTPsI_vri4m0C7ODNxa18-30H1pXD0PPPRt1rb-iulEzQ4iVve_X5jTs3yx_iTZyfJa3eJ4AHgdLAbuqCBqNrbW-Z4EmolDh7YSjK0_cB2Q75GUeQehWk/s1600/IMG_0462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqH5WF01ta0FtZv37xgUgG4CTPsI_vri4m0C7ODNxa18-30H1pXD0PPPRt1rb-iulEzQ4iVve_X5jTs3yx_iTZyfJa3eJ4AHgdLAbuqCBqNrbW-Z4EmolDh7YSjK0_cB2Q75GUeQehWk/s320/IMG_0462.jpg" width="240" /></a>Most certainly, it was not the path of least resistance. By the time I reached the lowlands, about 3 km in, the trail had disappeared under water. I couldn't even find the trail. I tried another trail. The small bridge I hiked across earlier in the week on the Track and Tower trail was now half submerged. </div>
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Much to my disappointment, I realized that my search for the moose was over. The conditions had become too rough for me to hike safely alone. It was time to head home.</div>
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There are about 3000 moose in Algonquin Provincial Park, and I hadn't seen one. I put my bruised and battered body in my truck and took stock of my injuries. I had multiple bruises, a twisted knee, a sore shoulder, and a thorn in the back of my head that is still there. Putting the truck in gear, I left the trailhead for the long drive home.</div>
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But nature wasn't finished teaching me yet.</div>
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Driving down the smooth road of the park, with the seat heater on to ease my aches and pains, drinking a hot cup of coffee and listening to my favorite playlist, nature handed me a gift. If you want to see a moose in Algonquin, take the path of least resistance.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Beautiful Beast</td></tr>
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Many thanks to my friend and fellow explorer Mike for encouraging me to explore your world, and for a great week of hiking and campfires and laughter. Most of all, thanks for this beautiful beast!</div>
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-9898582397443159892016-04-14T11:07:00.001-04:002016-04-14T13:59:31.892-04:00Blue Blazes and Trail Angels: Hiking the Grandma Gatewood Trail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I love hiking. Nothing makes me happier than time spent walking in the woods. In an effort to expand my horizons and explore new areas, I recently added a new state to my travel journal. The Grandma Gatewood Trail, located in southern Ohio, turned out to be much more than I anticipated. More challenging, more crowded, more cold, more remote, and more frightening. It was awesome.<br />
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After reading "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00IQY2Q0O/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?ie=UTF8&btkr=1" target="_blank">Grandma Gatewood's Walk</a>" and learning the story of this unlikely hero of the Appalachian Trail, I stumbled upon an article about a 6 mile trail in Ohio's <a href="http://parks.ohiodnr.gov/hockinghills" target="_blank">Hocking Hills State Park</a> named "Grandma Gatewood's Trail", which she blazed in the area where she grew up along with about 100 miles of the Buckeye Trail. I had to go, had to follow in her footsteps. She called this 6 mile section "the most beautiful section of trail in America". In Ohio? Really?<br />
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Yes, really.<br />
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Millions of years ago, shifting tectonic plates under the earth's surface pushed each other upwards to form the iconic Appalachian Range, a series of mountains stretching across much of the United States Eastern landscape. Many visitors to Hocking Hills State Park assume that this area is the far edge of the Appalachian Range, and indeed, Hocking Hills massive rock formations would lend credence to this thought. However, the catastrophic shifting of the earth that formed the Appalachian range actually stopped just 7 miles away from Hocking Hills. But then, a series of ice age glacial movements took place, the last being about 40,000 years ago. Massive glaciers, some as much as 2 miles thick, slid down from Canada, pushing everything in its way and carving unique landscapes into Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and then abruptly stopped, in south eastern Ohio, where what remained of the glaciers ran into the Appalachian range. Hocking Hills is the end of the line for this glaciation. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eastern Hemlock Stand</td></tr>
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The glaciers brought with them debris from Canada, which is evident in the massive stands of Eastern Canadian Hemlock, with a thick canopy that shields the ground below, where the magic tree, <a href="http://www.fs.fed.us/wildflowers/plant-of-the-week/hamamelis_virginiana.shtml" target="_blank">Witch Hazel</a>, grows along the streams in the cool shade of the Hemlocks. In other areas, naturally growing Rhododendron grows out of the sandstone in open areas. Of the thousands of species of plants and trees that grow in the Hocking Hills, represented are native flora from Northern Canada all the way to Georgia, concentrated in 2000 acres of State land.<br />
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There are six featured areas in the state park, surrounded by another 9,238 acres of state forest. Each of the features is a result of carving and erosion of Blackhand Sandstone, which is 150 feet thick in the park, and composed of three distinct layers. The upper and lower zones are firmly cemented and resistant to erosion and weathering, while the middle layer is loosely cemented, holds water, and is easily eroded, forming the caves, recesses, and grottos abundant in the park.<br />
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My faithful hiking companion, Rooney, and I spent the first day exploring Cantwell Cliffs, Rock House, and Conkle's Hollow, the three areas north of the campground.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLVk9eV3xwQgzGALKdzuU1QBCzXeaiAKGlnjrdjtJLRbqHqTU4DdlGJdpwCil-LB4fUnNYw6yZ2OhK_48VSgLwYtbcQAdybR6gHlukoq0dqECqUY1QcgC1wWDsYudzC_5ahGEsOh-Cyo/s1600/IMG_4819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLVk9eV3xwQgzGALKdzuU1QBCzXeaiAKGlnjrdjtJLRbqHqTU4DdlGJdpwCil-LB4fUnNYw6yZ2OhK_48VSgLwYtbcQAdybR6gHlukoq0dqECqUY1QcgC1wWDsYudzC_5ahGEsOh-Cyo/s200/IMG_4819.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fat Woman's Squeeze</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYP1cDmWw3apvdm3b-09_56tJD1a1pzWyNLHa36A-QsudkWBXC22bbufbyuNzEUTV5cDf2q9SJmkk-owkvGeA7t0TFmfu3yFwZz8fOdu__6Qx7po0O-ekURO2_3JBN3hpTD5QoaOnomU/s1600/IMG_4793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYP1cDmWw3apvdm3b-09_56tJD1a1pzWyNLHa36A-QsudkWBXC22bbufbyuNzEUTV5cDf2q9SJmkk-owkvGeA7t0TFmfu3yFwZz8fOdu__6Qx7po0O-ekURO2_3JBN3hpTD5QoaOnomU/s200/IMG_4793.jpg" width="150" /></a>The erosion in Cantwell Cliffs accounts for the deep valley, steep cliffs, and rock shelter under the cliff. The trail down to the valley floor is a series of narrow passageways, the narrowest of which is sarcastically named Fat Woman's Squeeze, all caused by large slump blocks falling away from the main cliff. Cantwell Cliffs is unique due to the limited amount of cross bedding in the middle zone of the Blackhand, meaning all of the grooves and ridges run in the same direction.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsH5Thl5TSqFIa5Mu7XjyhXAlfVXowW5qjA0k_Dt11t7BaN4dW4t_DmDoVBWBBKO112M-lNUJ8RLdPl3DzaWIrucvuOC0Dih7ECEuIbjp9B_qsHbpenRVLCwijWmlWMcc4fNiJrYMl2k/s1600/IMG_4830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsH5Thl5TSqFIa5Mu7XjyhXAlfVXowW5qjA0k_Dt11t7BaN4dW4t_DmDoVBWBBKO112M-lNUJ8RLdPl3DzaWIrucvuOC0Dih7ECEuIbjp9B_qsHbpenRVLCwijWmlWMcc4fNiJrYMl2k/s320/IMG_4830.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmQgmDhfP-VF4wypXlTHm_TdqXIQSQKhKc10CPD3AyVmWyCDElBOmXtEK_udjErNxL-ZhsSjtIunzf9x2t4j-Um97dWgIRaGjyQ0Fw1Gt4BFmS-jRH-Ezobs0mN3I5HC0iUPR7KUd3-Y/s1600/IMG_4835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmQgmDhfP-VF4wypXlTHm_TdqXIQSQKhKc10CPD3AyVmWyCDElBOmXtEK_udjErNxL-ZhsSjtIunzf9x2t4j-Um97dWgIRaGjyQ0Fw1Gt4BFmS-jRH-Ezobs0mN3I5HC0iUPR7KUd3-Y/s200/IMG_4835.jpg" width="150" /></a>Rock House is the only true cave in the park. Had it not been for the echo of voices from inside the cave, I might have missed it completely, mistaking the entrance for just another crevice. Yet once inside, I found myself in a Rock House larger than most homes, with a 25' high vaulted ceiling, and a room 200' long and 30' wide. That is equal to a 6000 square foot home! There is a main, horizontal joint running parallel in the cliff from which water seeped through and eroded the middle layer of the Blackhand, carving out the cave. A few smaller, vertical joints in the cliff give the cave several gothic looking openings. It is very dark in there, and one can imagine the subjects of local folklore, where legend has it that robbers, horse thieves, murderers and bootleggers occupied the cave over various periods. I'm not sure how they hid a horse in there, but I could certainly imagine a few bodies buried in the walls.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngXSbat8aMpd9USpy5Pkmp0fE0W6mV95UPZjVuhQFw5VKLTVmPz-u6pJBf9jwN4N2-McUrsTs8Gg7ozx3toWjLggKzcl4yNjOoSrRE9OKJkDzmYtW9wa-fi0xe-y63uhG1Hjgkzo4dDI/s1600/IMG_4829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngXSbat8aMpd9USpy5Pkmp0fE0W6mV95UPZjVuhQFw5VKLTVmPz-u6pJBf9jwN4N2-McUrsTs8Gg7ozx3toWjLggKzcl4yNjOoSrRE9OKJkDzmYtW9wa-fi0xe-y63uhG1Hjgkzo4dDI/s200/IMG_4829.jpg" width="150" /></a>Hiking to both of these areas is moderately difficult, though I saw all kinds of people with an adventurous spirit along the way. Some may have taken longer on the upward hike, but I didn't run into anyone who wouldn't eventually make it back to their car. Of the six featured areas in the park, these two are the only areas not easily accessible, yet both are worth the hike.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIdqoBr8YXNE9fLMhy1ltYDvp_DHXn2Kz_rkBZZOwdcrayjpgVbmxDiKIwgeFNHbOTtWagbDyKQxXipKgDe4Gdj6Roc9ZTdDDmL46N7LItHd3BFfcs3hCdICkxOurKuz1L5jkqS6QGfU/s1600/IMG_5004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIdqoBr8YXNE9fLMhy1ltYDvp_DHXn2Kz_rkBZZOwdcrayjpgVbmxDiKIwgeFNHbOTtWagbDyKQxXipKgDe4Gdj6Roc9ZTdDDmL46N7LItHd3BFfcs3hCdICkxOurKuz1L5jkqS6QGfU/s200/IMG_5004.jpg" width="150" /></a>I'm pretty sure that Rooney was relieved when we arrived at Conkles Hollow to find a sign banning pets from the area, a State Nature Preserve. My dog stayed peacefully passed out in the truck, exhausted from our strenuous hiking, while I took the paved, flat path into one of the deepest gorges in Ohio. Surrounded on either side by 200' vertical cliffs, the gorge is narrow and deeply shaded by Hemlocks resulting in a profusion of moss and ferns growing lush and green. A very small creek meanders along the trail as the cliffs continue to close in, until I reached the end of the paved path and was confronted with a blowdown of trees, which made it rather convenient to cross the stream and enter the recess where the cliffs finally merge into one. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpgKJtjuv7szkfhILPheQRo-3ZyTA47oclUjWYSOCWEBM3_LO7b51Nc70FdmzJmuZUxCtNTCouaD3TfkxjmJND-p9yejwOICl25XXhp__2xii697SKLCx067urDb9sH0vCfB2twk6RDw/s1600/IMG_5044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpgKJtjuv7szkfhILPheQRo-3ZyTA47oclUjWYSOCWEBM3_LO7b51Nc70FdmzJmuZUxCtNTCouaD3TfkxjmJND-p9yejwOICl25XXhp__2xii697SKLCx067urDb9sH0vCfB2twk6RDw/s320/IMG_5044.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Along the path is a grotto, which is a small cave with interesting features. Everything in the gorge is moist, green, slimy, and beautiful. It only took me 20 minutes to walk the entire trail and return to my truck, but it was 20 very peaceful minutes. The real fun, the purpose for this trip, was still ahead of me, but I had managed to have a stellar opening day.<br />
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The next morning dawned clear and unusually cold. I enjoy hiking in colder weather, and was prepared with warm layers of clothing and my trusty, leather hiking boots. Rooney and I set out at 9:00am, and drove just a short distance to Old Man's Cave, where I would begin the first half of the Grandma Gatewood Trail, retrace my steps, and return to the truck. There was only a handful of other people at the cave, and I easily spotted the first Blue Blaze at the Grandma Gatewood Trailhead.<br />
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Blazes are 2" wide x 4" long rectangles painted on trees and rocks to mark a trail. On the Appalachian Trail, the blazes are white. My blazes for the day were blue, and they were frequently placed to keep hikers on the right path, which turned out to be a very important feature of the trail.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gFrwI5u2btLN9SV9rrnyPBM4w-S0RxY-FfEHx3fO9MjHG1HIKWZgv_qHCEOKy6u1hGmU7jAi-H3jYMprpuSU2H7JyO2Bc2Wr7RuliRAiQskHbGyL6pEsA4tSoba1r3PVvUCdvzshl6o/s1600/IMG_4906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gFrwI5u2btLN9SV9rrnyPBM4w-S0RxY-FfEHx3fO9MjHG1HIKWZgv_qHCEOKy6u1hGmU7jAi-H3jYMprpuSU2H7JyO2Bc2Wr7RuliRAiQskHbGyL6pEsA4tSoba1r3PVvUCdvzshl6o/s320/IMG_4906.jpg" width="320" /></a>Beginning at Old Man's Cave, it is very simple to walk on a wide, paved path to the cave, where the path quickly narrows and follows rock ledges, rock steps, and rock slabs. There are signs everywhere, and roped off areas, warning visitors to stay on the designated trail to avoid danger. Every year, there are more than 100 rescue (and the occasional recovery) operations for seriously injured visitors, and every single incident is a result of someone foolishly ignoring these signs. I found, during the course of the day, that the trail to Cedar Falls is dangerous enough without exploring beyond it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXjSEv9GaIXjVvOilUPTw8oFq2vzP5RWwixsvWzKQaqs3D3moep5hFrz9aCv79IP15IIJdUsbQjdNKOWJm6xDlO4SIC6HskGS6t7Yi4gSmN61KzH-zEZKTDtJia3l9COFBRrD8SUsDak/s1600/IMG_5058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXjSEv9GaIXjVvOilUPTw8oFq2vzP5RWwixsvWzKQaqs3D3moep5hFrz9aCv79IP15IIJdUsbQjdNKOWJm6xDlO4SIC6HskGS6t7Yi4gSmN61KzH-zEZKTDtJia3l9COFBRrD8SUsDak/s200/IMG_5058.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMNGbyU5lsyd9PIVcaU428Y8_XaqFBD1rX1f3cI5oK7Jmdo9oCJhvL-PFrsxnEJUyTYyORQWJu1Kwkz0-O-Tdv5YISmhRn2OJemjauSh-tfV2MaSkOnZ7FCZAhCpckUe9YAiBibsyiy4/s1600/IMG_4909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMNGbyU5lsyd9PIVcaU428Y8_XaqFBD1rX1f3cI5oK7Jmdo9oCJhvL-PFrsxnEJUyTYyORQWJu1Kwkz0-O-Tdv5YISmhRn2OJemjauSh-tfV2MaSkOnZ7FCZAhCpckUe9YAiBibsyiy4/s320/IMG_4909.jpg" width="320" /></a>There was a reason I wanted to hike this particular hike. Like most avid hikers, I dream of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail some day. Emma Gatewood was the first woman to solo hike the entire trail in one season. She was 67 years old the first time she completed the AT, and 71 the third time she completed it, in a time when the trail wasn't properly marked nor were there the shelters and friendly trail towns of today. She hiked wearing knickers, a blouse, and Keds tennis shoes, carrying only a little food and a raincoat. In her many interviews when asked why she did it, she gave different elusive answers, but the one answer she gave that pretty much sums it up was "Because I wanted to." A woman in her time, who was married to a cruel and abusive man and raised 11 children on a farm in southern Ohio, hadn't had many options. What she wanted was never considered, only what she needed to survive. In the end, what she wanted was to carry only what she needed to survive and go for a 2,180 mile walk. <br />
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So I followed the blue blazes while thinking of Grandma Gatewood, trying to capture her spirit and feel the same peace she felt when walking in the woods. With Rooney in the lead, we left Old Man's Cave and headed to Cedar Falls. The three miles between the two areas can be categorized in four ways:<br />
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There are the low, flat sections where the path is muddy and slippery.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS1XFGgQImamIH15rHrydn-1_YHPFRegB8Zmig17Q99Sdv-WCVje9Q0ehglFmPCedlIlzz_OKcXRbrq0K9eOWFdniU23o0vT1KFP9NmqcZcmCbXrPMz3m0WlZuyNEgObhSmdxOecEd7A/s1600/IMG_4859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS1XFGgQImamIH15rHrydn-1_YHPFRegB8Zmig17Q99Sdv-WCVje9Q0ehglFmPCedlIlzz_OKcXRbrq0K9eOWFdniU23o0vT1KFP9NmqcZcmCbXrPMz3m0WlZuyNEgObhSmdxOecEd7A/s200/IMG_4859.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMp9XDDawTxEQAJrNmVV9uKRAPu-TgUat8LdZ2_SqRSAsJqSpPDLLtdJmPJFbEZNPmIjb_v9wAZ5o3XYcAQdFmaidxDBSO7RQ3DW2FMnOl6uXELWN5ZITLznF6M9e5oMNza2jgzI4-XUo/s1600/IMG_4902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMp9XDDawTxEQAJrNmVV9uKRAPu-TgUat8LdZ2_SqRSAsJqSpPDLLtdJmPJFbEZNPmIjb_v9wAZ5o3XYcAQdFmaidxDBSO7RQ3DW2FMnOl6uXELWN5ZITLznF6M9e5oMNza2jgzI4-XUo/s200/IMG_4902.jpg" width="150" /></a>There are the sections covered with exposed tree roots, easy to stumble over, and when wet, also slippery. They are usually wet.<br />
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Then there are the narrow rock ledges, with a towering cliff running straight up on one side, and another cliff going straight down to the shallow stream on the other side. Because these ledges have crumbling rock on the edges, they are also a bit slippery.<br />
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My favorite sections, though, are the boulder-strewn gaps in the cliff walls. You'd be surprised how slippery boulders can be.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGuzCvvxElVJ-pIaw_Ip0uKDnp-VFnSvQW-u2Fx-zj78sIpq1jZIg0BWSllXBBq4LgOD2Ou6uAA79ybmGss4MmKlqTTAEvt8EDekPl71CaPzOnWHatii6CXV4lRtUCFhkOWE6C_tmcQA/s1600/IMG_4824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGuzCvvxElVJ-pIaw_Ip0uKDnp-VFnSvQW-u2Fx-zj78sIpq1jZIg0BWSllXBBq4LgOD2Ou6uAA79ybmGss4MmKlqTTAEvt8EDekPl71CaPzOnWHatii6CXV4lRtUCFhkOWE6C_tmcQA/s320/IMG_4824.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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About 1.5 miles into the hike, Rooney and I were making good time, going up and down and over and through the trail, looking for blue blazes, stopping often to gape in awe at the scenery. We came to a narrow ledge, much more narrow than previous ledges, where Rooney hesitated then began carefully placing his feet to traverse the ledge. In the blink of an eye, he was gone! My 110 lb dog slid off the ledge dropping 20' to the shallow stream below. I could hear him whining, but could not see him. Dropping his leash over the cliff, I raced back on the trail to a point where I could climb down, waded through the stream around a bend, and with heart pounding, fear building, images of a pile of crushed bones that used to be my dog lying in the stream ahead, I caught a glimpse of Rooney, trying to claw his way back up the vertical cliff to the trail. <br />
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It's a bit of a miracle that he was ok. I checked him over thoroughly, found no injuries, so we climbed back up the slope to pick up the trail where he had left it in the most shocking way. My first concern was for my dog. I was considering giving up and going back to Old Man's Cave, knowing I could not take Rooney over the same ledge again. But much like Grandma Gatewood often did herself, I had missed a blue blaze, gotten off trail, and never was supposed to walk that ledge. The trail actually took us up, up, up over the cliff, then back down avoiding the ledge.<br />
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I was a little shaken. I have hiked for 7 years with Rooney in some pretty remote and challenging landscapes. He has always been sure-footed, a good climber, and we have never had a problem. But on this day, I had put my dog at risk. Unacceptable. I paused again, re-checked him for injuries, calmed him down a bit more, and said,<br />
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"Well, Rooney, what do you want to do?"<br />
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He turned and continued along the trail, toward Cedar Falls. I followed, keeping his leash a little shorter and determined to turn back if the trail got too rough for him.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lpaE2S5rOaNgcNwLrC6KtPROBiWlKVAdfseH4duabgTxCxenQY4fYRWVJIf-So6OQ5_vyCMOhviGW4Rxbx7TAvv0kQCLCPLOtyADPdttJbfICTu89VewAw3xH9hVj2sRRhc6VBNRGmQ/s1600/IMG_4893.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lpaE2S5rOaNgcNwLrC6KtPROBiWlKVAdfseH4duabgTxCxenQY4fYRWVJIf-So6OQ5_vyCMOhviGW4Rxbx7TAvv0kQCLCPLOtyADPdttJbfICTu89VewAw3xH9hVj2sRRhc6VBNRGmQ/s320/IMG_4893.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HuEdI-MM31CKOE75W-7OyHlt3OuoHw20A0IyxCqL45Id6C7aHNXxFYAUP1i15ox9dZT_nyaNg31KZ1vmNLMbGlxPJKbG_Yua8ubGfwHWzKEZwNR2oQm3Hn51k91cXUpffkwWYiZBIzA/s1600/IMG_4890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HuEdI-MM31CKOE75W-7OyHlt3OuoHw20A0IyxCqL45Id6C7aHNXxFYAUP1i15ox9dZT_nyaNg31KZ1vmNLMbGlxPJKbG_Yua8ubGfwHWzKEZwNR2oQm3Hn51k91cXUpffkwWYiZBIzA/s320/IMG_4890.jpg" width="240" /></a>We made it to Cedar Falls where there were a few more people, but still plenty of room to explore the area, rest with water and a snack, and give my dog a little love before heading back. He seemed a bit nervous, but generally ok. I felt terrible, imagining all of the things that could (and should) have happened when he fell off that ledge. But now I knew the trail, I was aware of what the hiking conditions would be on the return trip, and ready to complete the first half of hiking the Grandma Gatewood Trail. We began to retrace our steps and hike back to Old Man's Cave.<br />
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Within minutes, it occurred to me that there were a lot more people coming toward us. The day had warmed up bringing more and more people to the narrow trail. Often we would reach an impasse where there wasn't enough room for Rooney and me to pass the oncoming crowds. We would have to leave the trail (which is ill-advised) and wait for a group of hikers to pass by. The trek back would take twice as long. We forged ahead.<br />
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Coming up a steep slope, we reached one of the curving narrow passageways through an overhanging cliff. Large rocks littered the path, causing us to pick our way between them or climb over them, with limited sight ahead. Out of nowhere a large dog barreled around the corner with teeth bared and jaws snapping, and viciously attacked Rooney.<br />
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In a panic, I tried pulling Rooney back on the leash, but both dogs were in a full-out fight. My footing was insecure, there were people behind me, wild dogs trying to kill each other in front of me. I scrambled backwards, pushing people behind me who were also scrambling backwards, screaming at Rooney and yanking on his leash. It only lasted about 15 seconds, but it was 15 very dangerous seconds. A man ran through the opening in front of me, whipped his dog with a leather leash, and secured the attacking animal on a harness. Dragging Rooney backwards, I climbed down the trail and ran with my dog into the stream.<br />
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The man with the aggressive dog apologized profusely, but I didn't want to hear it. He had not followed the rules and let his dog off-leash, placing Rooney and me in a very perilous situation. There is no excuse for that.<br />
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Other hikers gathered around me while I once again checked Rooney for injuries. He is twice the size of his attacker, and seemed no worse for the fight, other than shaking and obviously stressed. The crowd gave us some space while I calmed my dog. At this point, all I wanted was to get my dog out of there, off the trail, safe and secure in my truck. And then things got worse.<br />
<br />
For the next two miles, our frequent encounters with other hikers and their dogs caused Rooney such stress that he growled and tensed, telling me we were not in a good place for him. He was so revved up from the dog fight, he was ready to attack all foes in his path. Every minute or so, I had to pull him off trail, turn his back to approaching dogs, and let people know Rooney needed some space.<br />
<br />
The next two hours consisted of a constant alertness, scrambling off to the side of the trail, apologizing to other hikers, and the fervent desire to <i>get off that trail</i>. Finally, we came around the last bend into Old Man's Cave, where I knew all we had to do was climb 63 narrow rock steps to the top of the cave, walk 50' across an even narrower dirt trail on the edge of the cave, and we were home free!<br />
<br />
Imagine my dismay when we rounded the corner in the gorge to see about 200 people slowly working their way down the steps, half of them with dogs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0mSofFOXAbH8vjI0ASd43QNoUbrgN5-aut8sT5n2X87JyC_bYK1tllhQfEROA4FwEK9YYxYESy2ussASQvlqWK4tvhWBMWmUL53sEfMvhNAKeBraL1IzdrdBA4NIuF_DY62_AVDxZAw/s1600/descent-into-old-mans-cave-brian-stevens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0mSofFOXAbH8vjI0ASd43QNoUbrgN5-aut8sT5n2X87JyC_bYK1tllhQfEROA4FwEK9YYxYESy2ussASQvlqWK4tvhWBMWmUL53sEfMvhNAKeBraL1IzdrdBA4NIuF_DY62_AVDxZAw/s320/descent-into-old-mans-cave-brian-stevens.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Brian Stevens (Google) Imagine this passage filled with 100 people and their dogs!<br />
The stairway from the gorge to Old Man's Cave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Over 2 million visitors come to Old Man's Cave each year, not just because of the fascinating landscape and the breathtaking beauty, but because of the legend, a legend that has since been proved true.<br />
<br />
In the early 1800's a young man named Richard Rowe and his beloved dog discovered the cave while searching for a good hunting and fishing spot. He took up residence, building a wooden wall at the face of the cave to provide shelter, living inside the recess of the cave. Richard was popular in the area with local trappers, anglers, and the Shawnee Natives. Considered a recluse, still he was known for being kind, helpful, and hospitable. He lived to be an old man, in his cave with his dog. <br />
<br />
In the 1950's, two teenaged boys had been fishing all day and were walking in the gorge beneath Old Man's Cave at dusk, heading home. They heard something that sounded like a dog howling, looked up, and saw an old man standing on a very large boulder. He smiled and waved at them, then right before their eyes, melted into the boulder. The boys were astounded, ran all the home, told their story, and the authorities were alerted. Because the boys' story was so consistent and they would not be deterred from their belief in what they saw, local officials went to Old Man's Cave with them, and began drilling into the boulder where the boys saw the man. After drilling several feet down, they discovered a wooden box, not really a casket, but long and narrow. Inside the box were the skeletal remains of a human and a dog, a musket, and a note, written by Shawnee Indians. It told the story of Richard Rowe's demise.<br />
<br />
On a cold winter morning, the Shawnees found Richard dead on the side of the river, his dog next to him, also dead. From what they could surmise, Richard had tried to break a hole in the ice to fish, using his musket. He had a bullet hole in his lower jaw, among other unpleasant results from an accidental musket blast. The Shawnees built him a wooden box, in the tradition of their tribe, and buried him with his dog, rolling the large boulder over the top of his grave. It is said that to this day, late at night, when the moon shines full and bright, a dog can be heard howling in the gorge.<br />
<br />
I consider myself a pretty strong person, calm under pressure, a steady presence when faced with a challenge. But when I saw all those people and dogs blocking my way out of Old Man's Cave, I wanted to sink to the gorge floor and cry. I had done this to my dog. I took him out for a hike without knowing the trail, the people, the circumstances. I had placed him in peril and caused him too much stress. I hated myself right then.<br />
<br />
It must have shown on my face, because I heard someone say to me,<br />
<br />
"Are you ok?" Behind me was a large man, wearing canvas pants and a flannel shirt, with a full head of hair and a long beard. I told him my dog was very stressed and I needed to get him out of there, but couldn't take him past all those people with their dogs. The man nodded, smiled, and said "Follow me".<br />
<br />
I didn't have much choice, so I followed him to the bottom of the rock steps. He stayed right in front of me, and every few seconds, he would turn sideways and shield Rooney from the other dogs coming down the steps. This went on and on, for 30 minutes, until Rooney and I finally broke free of the narrow trail into the wide open space that led to my truck. I was so relieved I almost cried again, and I turned around to thank the man, but he was nowhere to be found. Wait, where did he <i>go</i>? I scanned the heads of the people going down, I looked all around the open area in front of me, but I couldn't find him. I really wanted to thank him, buy him a steak dinner, anything to let him know I would not have made it out of there without him. But I never saw him again.<br />
<br />
Long distance hikers often speak of Trail Magic, and Trail Angels. The theory is, when hiking a trail, when you reach your lowest point, when frustrations and fears are at their most intense, something will happen. Someone will appear and turn your day around and restore your faith in humanity and nature and yourself. They're called Trail Angels, and I had just met one. Was it Richard Rowe, risen from the rocks to guide me because he loved dogs too? Was it some random guy who needed no thanks? I honestly don't know. I sure do wish I could have thanked him though.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKmEKtWL0OFnS5D3oDqEy8vSZ1BeDfkBXklDdIy-EdWQDAM5xo_vNxaIWjfUpVgNILH516nRkDlZ72KBdmqSdqTdzizJUHDJPcOoyQfu-WyJT0oX-NzGvXH3qEDWFMEkmKD9Zhq6c3yA/s1600/IMG_5068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKmEKtWL0OFnS5D3oDqEy8vSZ1BeDfkBXklDdIy-EdWQDAM5xo_vNxaIWjfUpVgNILH516nRkDlZ72KBdmqSdqTdzizJUHDJPcOoyQfu-WyJT0oX-NzGvXH3qEDWFMEkmKD9Zhq6c3yA/s320/IMG_5068.jpg" width="240" /></a>You might think (and possibly hope) this is the end of the story. Perhaps you are picturing Rooney and me sitting by a campfire, relaxing, and indeed, we <i>did</i> do that. It was lovely to read a book while Rooney slept at my feet. But around 6:00pm, I needed to take Rooney for a walk one more time before he passed out for the night. He wasn't very excited when I brought his leash out. As a matter of fact, he looked at me like I was the Devil's spawn. Being the good dog he is, Rooney walked at my side through the campground, until we reached a dirt service road as far away from our campsite as we could go. Suddenly, Rooney jumped, tucked his tail between his legs, raised his nose in the air, and tensed his whole body. He began whining.<br />
<br />
Warning bells were sounding in my head, red flags rising everywhere, as I spun around and around, seeking the source of Rooney's anxiety. Was there a dog behind us? A wild animal? A drifter in the woods who meant to cause me bodily harm? What? What? <i>What</i>?<br />
<br />
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Like someone turning on a light switch, the wind was suddenly blowing at 60mph, the temperature dropped 20Âş, and dime-sized hail fell in horizontal sheets, pelting my face and Rooney's back, stinging, hurting. Rooney took off for the camper at a panicked run, I struggled to keep up. By the time we were safely in the tin can, we were both covered in ice, soaking wet, and shivering. Looking out the window, I thought, dear God, what more must we endure today?<br />
<br />
Hocking Hills State Park is unique. In addition to a beautiful campground and the six attractions with ample parking and restrooms, there is a Visitor Center, modern rental cabins, and a Lodge with a restaurant. After our mad dash through a sleet storm, I was ready for a meal more substantial than the soup I had brought for dinner. Rooney feasted on a big, juicy cheeseburger while I enjoyed Baked Cod. I figured my dog had earned it.<br />
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<br />
It was a long night. Storms blew through the area all night, bending the trees surrounding my trailer. I laid awake, waiting for a massive trunk to fall on my Airstream and crush Rooney and I to certain, slow, and painful death. Rooney whined and whimpered all night, at my side, begging for comfort I was unable to genuinely provide.<br />
<br />
The next morning dawned clear and cold, very cold. I was determined to finish walking in Grandma Gatewood's steps, but had decided to leave Rooney in the camper. As I locked the camper door and turned to my truck, Rooney's face appeared in the window and he began to howl like a lost child looking for his mother. I couldn't leave him, he <i>wanted</i> to go with me. I made the decision to start the trail, but if there were too many people and dogs, or the terrain got too rough, we would turn around and come back. I was not willing to risk my dog's health just to hike a trail.<br />
<br />
We drove to Cedar Falls, with me praying all the way to God and the Great Spirit and Mother Nature and every spirit I could imagine that we would have a good day, parked, and went to the exact spot where we had stopped yesterday to turn back. I didn't want to miss an inch of the trail, much like Emma Gatewood did when she walked the Appalachian Trail in 1957. We crossed the parking lot and headed to the blue blaze which marked the beginning of this section of trail. As we left the pavement and walked around a small stand of trees, we saw this:<br />
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<br />
I thought we couldn't possibly be on the right trail, but the blue blazes continued. We walked three miles, occasionally following the blue blazes for a short section through the woods, but mostly on flat, wide, grassy trail. The trail was easy, and oh, so quiet. Rooney matched my stride, and in tandem our breaths formed little clouds in air that smelled fresh and earthy. With my senses I felt <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUkcj3kG_51Xkx-dpPCONj9z4YeogrRqTRIJL5SoSFcBGavbS7WNVqVlQziF6I7JAcy1lxDZ-Ij3KNn_5BQHkbaj3Htjkz_np-Z2xVkyI0cdC3m5jpY195EnhZL2M2KQlqzxjNdd24A4/s1600/IMG_4952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUkcj3kG_51Xkx-dpPCONj9z4YeogrRqTRIJL5SoSFcBGavbS7WNVqVlQziF6I7JAcy1lxDZ-Ij3KNn_5BQHkbaj3Htjkz_np-Z2xVkyI0cdC3m5jpY195EnhZL2M2KQlqzxjNdd24A4/s320/IMG_4952.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdEmJLRNbSJCWhrZUZxDouVVMrR_A-cV7EuDOKQx3M8bXPBQ7jun2qz1m8i8hmZOMLv28NUt_Y80dHMliRA5eAabB0zjtVemw6u9kfIqRhy6HX2kjbjhP31Gk6q9NZSwOEEWPYcuIBgM/s1600/IMG_4971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdEmJLRNbSJCWhrZUZxDouVVMrR_A-cV7EuDOKQx3M8bXPBQ7jun2qz1m8i8hmZOMLv28NUt_Y80dHMliRA5eAabB0zjtVemw6u9kfIqRhy6HX2kjbjhP31Gk6q9NZSwOEEWPYcuIBgM/s320/IMG_4971.jpg" width="240" /></a>connected to the earth, with each step I became an extension of the trail itself. Reaching Ash Cave, we only saw two other people, older women who had no dog and fawned over Rooney, showering him with affection. With no one there, we were able to explore the area and really take in the astounding beauty of the largest cave in Hocking Hills. 2.5 hours after we had begun, Rooney and I were back at the truck, with six miles under our belt, and other than the two women, we never saw another person on the trail. It was perfect.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPc0cipxvEqVnOPBLn2oXBMb8n_UpAQvn7ZV6OZWZVIHgFqEkxDXcDfbcMj8eaGajTTGEdp79E_GC0oHehBwYU662uz0VO9FHKWn2rky2Sv7ev1ZEOcK0hrjelDqsVrdhi_KPvvSw2QY/s1600/IMG_4940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPc0cipxvEqVnOPBLn2oXBMb8n_UpAQvn7ZV6OZWZVIHgFqEkxDXcDfbcMj8eaGajTTGEdp79E_GC0oHehBwYU662uz0VO9FHKWn2rky2Sv7ev1ZEOcK0hrjelDqsVrdhi_KPvvSw2QY/s320/IMG_4940.jpg" width="240" /></a>As we walked off the trail, I saw our final blue blaze. The blazes had guided us for 2 days, telling us where to turn and encouraging us to keep going. We had done it, we had hiked Grandma Gatewood's Trail - twice - and overcome obstacles and met a Trail Angel. We had missed a blue blaze or two, gotten into some rough spots, and gotten out. We experienced the kindness of strangers, and a bit of their selfishness too. Nature is grand, the breathtaking sights of Hocking Hills are inspiring and awesome enough to overshadow the little challenges of the trail. Rooney and I walked at great heights, and scrambled through the depths, to see waterfalls, caves, cliffs, trees, wildflowers, and hear the stories of the hills. We paused as we came off the trail, taking a moment to think of Grandma Gatewood and Richard Rowe, feeling their hardships and their love of this land. I knew what the blue blaze was telling me now. I was exactly where I should be.<br />
<br /></div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-87218617620333581332016-01-28T11:16:00.001-05:002016-02-02T05:53:04.377-05:00The Roadtrek Winter Freezeout Mantra: No Bugs, But Cold Seats In The Pit Toilet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
People say I am crazy. When I tell friends and acquaintances in my hometown I am going camping in Michigan's Upper Peninsula in the winter, they shake their heads and look at me like I am not quite right in my head. <i>Won't it be cold? What about wild animals? What if your truck gets stuck in a snowstorm? </i>They express all kinds of worries, letting their imaginations and fears get the best of them. It's really no big deal to go, but it <i>is</i> a big deal to be there.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2eulqtUMpPTkpfluFV10s4WZrRtygXBnbpwhysL_6rJYnXOcm1PYcKjzllCIEWAZDvGIR_N4C8myS65BIKA4v_-7FrXcGHpUGkYsuV1dNASqEcC_4TV3HWxLiDH44k959sZD-52qdro/s1600/IMG_1951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2eulqtUMpPTkpfluFV10s4WZrRtygXBnbpwhysL_6rJYnXOcm1PYcKjzllCIEWAZDvGIR_N4C8myS65BIKA4v_-7FrXcGHpUGkYsuV1dNASqEcC_4TV3HWxLiDH44k959sZD-52qdro/s200/IMG_1951.jpg" width="150" /></a>I have been hearing this sentiment for years, longing to meet people who are more like me, with the same interests, passions, and desire to experience nature. A few years ago, I stumbled across a blog by Mike Wendland, <a href="http://roadtreking.com/" target="_blank">Roadtreking:Discovering the Small Motorhome Lifestyle</a>. This guy, and his wife, Jennifer, travel around the country in a Class B Roadtrek motorhome, a big van really, and see things most people don't see, meet interesting road warriors who do the same, exchange stories and experiences, and teach the rest of us how it is done. I began following his blog, listening to his <br />
podcasts, subscribed to his newsletter, and eventually began an online interaction with Mike. Most of his group are Roadtrek owners, they go to rallies together, have smaller meet-ups, and wave to each other on the road. I was delighted when Mike said I could join a Roadtrek outing in Winter 2015, even though I would be camping in my car, at Tahquamenon Falls. I had a great time playing in the snow with a small group of adventurous souls who took good care of me, bringing me coffee in the morning and checking to make sure I hadn't frozen to death in my car.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTfE0twSqVqsSdtr-1hShebYZ1M1bSe3Oqg3XSI-RJBMF32oKyULOLQFvyZoGqZSsB4bMxj1csC3I5rCE5oFyZUu-_SGNuQB9DDVUciRF4Nb01OIfZxs_3OjlsKY9TzOxZ6U3Qvq-AZQ/s1600/IMG_4541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTfE0twSqVqsSdtr-1hShebYZ1M1bSe3Oqg3XSI-RJBMF32oKyULOLQFvyZoGqZSsB4bMxj1csC3I5rCE5oFyZUu-_SGNuQB9DDVUciRF4Nb01OIfZxs_3OjlsKY9TzOxZ6U3Qvq-AZQ/s200/IMG_4541.jpg" width="200" /></a>This year, our group grew, as did my camping accommodations. <br />
We had about 50 people arrive in our winter wonderland as I greeted them from my truck camper. Still not as convenient as a Roadtrek, but a definite step up in comfort from last year. The park staff at Tahquamenon Falls State Park are top-notch and had plowed additional sites out for us, brought us snow shoes to borrow, and a bucket of sand in case anyone got stuck in a snowbank, which one of us who shall remain nameless ended up using. The outhouses were clean and well-stocked with toilet paper. (You'd be surprised how pleased we all were by that). Our weekend began with happy reunions and getting to know the newbies. I was so happy to be there my face froze in a great big smile.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGIJzVRNUokd9_m0rusIg6LYyczMB0u-n3kVEnyFtb-vXQvkn69bGO59GuLnYUAHwl41Yv5-pa-Rj68BdeSRKIHwrw88nl2l32iP2lHCCCwLLTbA1yZZtrEctWUg3Mi5zElNumdO-nkg/s1600/12400659_10153172839341082_4114238133690377360_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGIJzVRNUokd9_m0rusIg6LYyczMB0u-n3kVEnyFtb-vXQvkn69bGO59GuLnYUAHwl41Yv5-pa-Rj68BdeSRKIHwrw88nl2l32iP2lHCCCwLLTbA1yZZtrEctWUg3Mi5zElNumdO-nkg/s200/12400659_10153172839341082_4114238133690377360_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road treks parked at <br />
The Inn in Paradise. <br />
Photo Credit: Ari Adler</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Yoopers - people who live in the U.P. of Michigan - call the land above the bridge "God's Country". Indeed, it is. They even have signs posted along the road, to remind drivers they have no worries, they are in God's Country. The Roadtrek Band of Merry Men and Women embraced it, got out in it, breathed it in, let it fill them, and became part of it. Collectively, we snowshoed to the lower Tahquamenon Falls with Theresa Neil, Michigan DNR Interpreter, then a small group took the challenging route to the upper Falls, a strenuous 8 mile hike wearing snowshoes designed to keep your feet on top of the snow but aren't that effective on the steep up-and-downhill terrain. Some went to the dogsled races, while others explored Whitefish Bay with Lake Superior waves frozen mid-curl, where time stands still and the winds do not. Mike set up his HAM radio at the upper Falls, on a section of the North Country Trail to participate in the National Parks on the Air. You can read all about it <a href="http://roadtreking.com/my-new-challenge-100-miles-on-the-north-country-scenic-trail/" target="_blank">here.</a> Photographers broke trail and captured places where no man had walked since the freshest snowfall. I drove to a parking lot, left my vehicle, and spent two hours of solitary hiking on the North Country Trail while waiting to give a ride to that small group of hearty snowshoers making their long journey to the upper Falls. They were unusually happy to see me at the end.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Yan Seiner</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Yan Seiner</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Ari Adler</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Lynn Ellen Kaiser</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Habushu: The Essence of Snake</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKy8ycXCj0hr-xYXq55dBWtnXeJ-Qtx9XM_Y3ZgqbcDVyRoeI9lt3HpbAlT0dsC4di4TVSFku94e2hZiJBSPxlU77BVgmjfo-1JmylUZ2c064529AwvNCUhlWrcV_cMikAT4mTKpzgBXY/s1600/12513987_10207276779750394_3425109769184528550_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKy8ycXCj0hr-xYXq55dBWtnXeJ-Qtx9XM_Y3ZgqbcDVyRoeI9lt3HpbAlT0dsC4di4TVSFku94e2hZiJBSPxlU77BVgmjfo-1JmylUZ2c064529AwvNCUhlWrcV_cMikAT4mTKpzgBXY/s200/12513987_10207276779750394_3425109769184528550_o.jpg" width="200" /></a>We spent most of our time outside, some of it in remote areas. We weren't cold, because we were moving and dressed for the weather. We weren't miserable, or isolated, or hungry or thirsty. We were <i>alive</i>! At night, we built a bonfire and sat around its warmth. Some of us supplied a little bit of our own warmth. Yan even brought Habushu, but that is an entire story in itself which I will tell later. Tired from our day spent exploring outside, we enjoyed good conversation, Gouda cheese, a warm fire, and stories of our travels.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Jim Diepenbruck</td></tr>
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Roadtrekers aren't crazy, but they are my kind of people. They had come from Michigan, Ohio, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Indiana, and Ontario, Canada. They have traveled through Canada to Alaska, from Maine to the Outer Banks to the Florida Keys, from Texas to New Mexico and Arizona. They have boondocked at Yellowstone, Glacier National Park, and along the Pacific shores in Oregon and California. They have been to the Heartland and made it part of their own heart. Jim, a photographer in our group, boondocked in an extremely isolated wilderness on the way to and from the U.P., looking for Elk. He didn't find any, but Jim did get a fleeting look at the Coyote who was none too please to have Jim as a guest in his home, and expressed the sentiment late at night while Jim was outside photographing the stars. Jim's not crazy, but he experienced something most people never will, a close encounter with a wild animal late at night, and shared a moment with a Coyote, a moment he won't forget. That Coyote is part of Jim's journey now.<br />
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I have turned my dream of owning a Roadtrek into a goal. I have no idea yet how I can make it happen, but I can open a conversation with my husband about his retirement in a few years. Together, we can decide what we can live without (you'd be surprised what you can live without), what we can give up, and what we can gain by traveling the country together and immersing ourselves in the adventure of living.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNAeyRTtZUqwl53W-oDdPTqR0S6VswtL1_QJcsmvpA5A5LDNX01yXzG-ugWtQdNQ8QHghNqYnmKIMkcg8Qvo7ka2-zErW52QmtUIST679R_2RhIFW1R-f4q1AXVoKZR_DcVW2OaV2wz4/s1600/IMG_4538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNAeyRTtZUqwl53W-oDdPTqR0S6VswtL1_QJcsmvpA5A5LDNX01yXzG-ugWtQdNQ8QHghNqYnmKIMkcg8Qvo7ka2-zErW52QmtUIST679R_2RhIFW1R-f4q1AXVoKZR_DcVW2OaV2wz4/s200/IMG_4538.jpg" width="150" /></a>I want what these people have. They have worked hard, raised families, overcome tragedies and health issues, have faced the challenges we all face. Some are still facing them, still working, still planning. But they all know this very important secret: whatever came before today is over. Whatever will come tomorrow is unknown. So take today as the gift that God gave you, go out, and explore. Fill your soul with a spirit of adventure! Embrace the mantra of our Winter Freezeout; No bugs (the perks) and a <i>very</i> cold seat in the pit toilet (little inconveniences that don't matter). Wherever you are right now, in your home, in your office, out shopping, or camping in two feet of snow...there are perks and minor inconveniences. We are not crazy. We are fun and full of life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XkxuGx59X7q1PQ4V9YVBREZyFdj2gxY6ajpWbUusc2Dgmw0g7nSzObe06TQmJk2tsDeEXiHmHRlTJIBaPC3DC4iC9scW1V4cLl_yTwleUCRvkhfFFwEFUadQ8WGSz_hCdvr7RJVYS5w/s1600/10407158_10152693994020617_3277823137861441171_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XkxuGx59X7q1PQ4V9YVBREZyFdj2gxY6ajpWbUusc2Dgmw0g7nSzObe06TQmJk2tsDeEXiHmHRlTJIBaPC3DC4iC9scW1V4cLl_yTwleUCRvkhfFFwEFUadQ8WGSz_hCdvr7RJVYS5w/s320/10407158_10152693994020617_3277823137861441171_n.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Yan Seiner</td></tr>
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If you still think we are crazy, watch this video by Roadtreker Ari Adler:<br />
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To be on the edge of a cold wind and a warm sun, and watch the melding of water and ice; to stand where there are no footprints and breathe; it is the igniting of imagination, the freefall of spirit, and the stillness of your soul. But it's not crazy</div>
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I am grateful for my time with the Roadtrekers in a winter wonderland. I love their stories, their warmth, their laughter, and their willingness to explore. I love their sense of humor. I love <i>them</i>. Most of all, I love being in God's Country with them. No big deal to go, but a really big deal to be there. Crazy, eh?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCbsjZQpr89pEZN_08v4lIqTqtgexFpA_kMkc9AS5aAgGg7Q6IH-6UayWj4HzpyA-p-1bHgUqCm18OhqRFtlT90gxJXwYg-F1XM1u7UMqzFGkj0ASG-tgjmrbv3_PiFe8AjkrWF81uSI/s1600/DSC_9630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCbsjZQpr89pEZN_08v4lIqTqtgexFpA_kMkc9AS5aAgGg7Q6IH-6UayWj4HzpyA-p-1bHgUqCm18OhqRFtlT90gxJXwYg-F1XM1u7UMqzFGkj0ASG-tgjmrbv3_PiFe8AjkrWF81uSI/s400/DSC_9630.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-53254433152228819752015-12-22T13:08:00.001-05:002015-12-22T13:28:37.335-05:00Living with Dr. Seuss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">You're off to Great Places!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">Today is your day!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">Your mountain is waiting.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">So...get on your way!</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;"> ~Dr. Seuss</span></i><br />
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My go-to gift for high school graduates is the book "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss. It lets kids know they are ready to go and grab life and do great things. Except when they don't.<br />
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I have always had an adventurous spirit, but most of my life for various reasons, I have not spent much time on great adventures. Not to complain, because I have had some wonderful times in the wilderness, I have also had some wonderful times at home with my family, and then all the times when life wasn't the way I wanted it. That's life.<br />
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One of the obstacles I have faced is the same for most people: money. Or lack thereof. It's expensive to be an outdoor adventurer, and sometimes when I hear the mountains calling, or the wilderness whispering and beckoning to me, I have to silence their sound and stay on course at home. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcy8tphbTU0qKmGMS7TmA_NvqteBmp_u7gc5wSfaNbTnIuhVkzxuAHVla2l0rl9cuDhC9uqTzL_Vgx7NAckdkhSeDgTCWiNtvt4DDIe-XdIEqrVEjjBirTYI8YnciHMEbG2oCl6L_Ch4/s1600/IMG_0936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcy8tphbTU0qKmGMS7TmA_NvqteBmp_u7gc5wSfaNbTnIuhVkzxuAHVla2l0rl9cuDhC9uqTzL_Vgx7NAckdkhSeDgTCWiNtvt4DDIe-XdIEqrVEjjBirTYI8YnciHMEbG2oCl6L_Ch4/s200/IMG_0936.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_OfWLovB-UV1M54zpNeQ2cvtlTV73qk3amZKnwHgpGhq3eSzrnQIyumPDwoVOphx3eNVZniIxpPchGo1wiPIGh8UQq-MnUx4pg_jKN15lZpY9QAiFmbR4xPmNQc9sP13q0PcDOwV8UA/s1600/IMG_1240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_OfWLovB-UV1M54zpNeQ2cvtlTV73qk3amZKnwHgpGhq3eSzrnQIyumPDwoVOphx3eNVZniIxpPchGo1wiPIGh8UQq-MnUx4pg_jKN15lZpY9QAiFmbR4xPmNQc9sP13q0PcDOwV8UA/s200/IMG_1240.jpg" width="200" /></a>In my younger days, it was a little easier. Give me a tent, a sleeping bag, and some basic gear and I was good to go. But gone are the days of riding my mountain bike full-tilt down a single track. I am no longer capable of jumping up after a head-first dive into the ground and thinking it was awesome. Gone, too, are the days of throwing my gear in my car on a whim in the middle of February to either sleep in a snow-covered tent or worse, in the backseat of my car, just to see Lake Superior when it's frozen - which doesn't happen often.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-FfRW0b3zX57brobuvgM1Zpt2LsZVbmjfzvwy1kAFRwFceW-3QvL7lS5xTUgxiuh-dsxhrIS_PhXFngh-p4juArxT0vKT-ef3WBRyXsIlomY-NkLFLRJu1pjBwrglwjkwpzKJmM-sG48/s1600/IMG_4111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-FfRW0b3zX57brobuvgM1Zpt2LsZVbmjfzvwy1kAFRwFceW-3QvL7lS5xTUgxiuh-dsxhrIS_PhXFngh-p4juArxT0vKT-ef3WBRyXsIlomY-NkLFLRJu1pjBwrglwjkwpzKJmM-sG48/s200/IMG_4111.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
There was a time when I was up for any adventure and could make it happen on a pretty small budget. I still have the desire. This year alone, I jumped out of an airplane, hiked among waterfalls and mountains, and explored the rugged wilderness of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, in good weather and bad. But I am no longer up for anything. Winters in the U.P. are really, really cold. I have reached that point in my life (and by <i>that point</i>, I mean <i>that age</i>) where adventure is still awesome, but so is heat and a comfortable bed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJPFMwKRvx3LOnNwH1Rkd9QVW_p7Aaf-E_8h7PJI6bHVhLUvb1Y_2-dAQSn9m_F6l3RLwZTvBFcx6pqZCyx1o5LSsBAAUGyoHAcQZZi6kLHCmAbgBOgNyX6GPr06Gvm7qi4kTMzbSI5E/s1600/IMG_1951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJPFMwKRvx3LOnNwH1Rkd9QVW_p7Aaf-E_8h7PJI6bHVhLUvb1Y_2-dAQSn9m_F6l3RLwZTvBFcx6pqZCyx1o5LSsBAAUGyoHAcQZZi6kLHCmAbgBOgNyX6GPr06Gvm7qi4kTMzbSI5E/s200/IMG_1951.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;">Oh! The Places You'll Go!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;">You'll be on your way up!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;">You'll be seeing great sights!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;"> You'll join the high flyers</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;"> who soar to high heights.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"> Except when you don't.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"> Because, sometimes, you won't.</span></i></div>
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Winter adventures have been a challenge, and often, I have said no to the wilderness because my aging bones just can't take it. I just need a bed and heat without spending a lot of money. Apparently, a lot of people want basic comfort without big expense, and one man heard their call and set about turning the vision into a reality. Dustin Johns, President of Travel Lite, designed and built the Rayzr, not just for the cutting edge of innovation in the RV market, but for people like me, who live for the cutting edge of adventure and do not want to be encumbered by a complicated, expensive fancy camper or reservations at a hotel.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25fiCtfKoA64Y78SC4Bzv-D2scVU4y0ucQ8M9mjIbbqx4-6gFYCfF_YTCegHXWjKjyuStRy6KUxIQFcA9g4X80jDyH74HcshUDDIreLbVE9vYjymnelX2EY7gGZOKGH6AKUaq55866b4/s1600/IMG_4351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25fiCtfKoA64Y78SC4Bzv-D2scVU4y0ucQ8M9mjIbbqx4-6gFYCfF_YTCegHXWjKjyuStRy6KUxIQFcA9g4X80jDyH74HcshUDDIreLbVE9vYjymnelX2EY7gGZOKGH6AKUaq55866b4/s320/IMG_4351.jpg" width="320" /></a>Dustin created the Rayzr not just for adventurers, but for anyone, really. It is a small, simple space with ingenious design to offer all the necessities without all the frills and headaches of RV ownership. It is very affordable, which is good, because I do not foresee many used Rayzr's available anytime soon. People will buy them, and keep them.<br />
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What is all the excitement about? Simply put, it's <i>the</i> solution to so many problems. Relatives coming to stay? Give them their own space and a comfortable bed. Going hunting? Fishing? Come back to warmth and a cup of coffee. Outdoor adventurers can now go anywhere and still have a home. Park on the street for an Art Fair, and have a place to store all your purchases and make lunch, maybe even take a midday nap. Christmas shopping becomes less stressful when your second home is parked in the mall parking lot. The Rayzr is a place to be, a space to call your own, in any situation. You can cook, sleep, stay warm or cool, read, store all your stuff, and in one model, even have a bathroom. All for a very affordable price and the ease of barely knowing it's there.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xBwAHRcYn9nS2ZQDf0qWp45re6MzXPoITKYm7esyPy5N2xAqcFjY8SGrtEDL9FeufnY8z79WlJ4IQEUEZ-j_OC4Y_n8a0ivWud0sFn3c9C6Xbnlo9Kl7gd6GCVllKG7gPgAp1DwtGJQ/s1600/IMG_4363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xBwAHRcYn9nS2ZQDf0qWp45re6MzXPoITKYm7esyPy5N2xAqcFjY8SGrtEDL9FeufnY8z79WlJ4IQEUEZ-j_OC4Y_n8a0ivWud0sFn3c9C6Xbnlo9Kl7gd6GCVllKG7gPgAp1DwtGJQ/s200/IMG_4363.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
You can read all about the different models and technical stuff in an article published in <a href="http://www.truckcampermagazine.com/news/tcm-exclusive-2016-travel-lite-rayzr" target="_blank">Truck Camper Magazine</a> which interviews Dustin Johns. It's a good read and gives you all the floor plans, pricing, and details.<br />
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But for me, I can sell the idea of this camper easily. The Rayzr is affordable, versatile, simple, and comfortable. It can be plugged into shore power, but as a self-contained unit that needs no hook-ups for several days, it can also be my comfort in a State or National Forest or cross-country trip. I can take it anywhere I can drive my truck. Yes, you do need a truck, but in my mind, who <i>doesn't</i> want a truck?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNGCokxGr5WOPQl1PcgjOTNkOfrc49vCwmH8VYINd7qf_fmYw9RDZRjztzuY1OgaYab_dBiaEJ5aYu_TsRurHQHVK9vD_GenPR8FGKV_cyrYRYfgqSTVPfB8ga_C139aadQt6tAaBxvA/s1600/IMG_4358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNGCokxGr5WOPQl1PcgjOTNkOfrc49vCwmH8VYINd7qf_fmYw9RDZRjztzuY1OgaYab_dBiaEJ5aYu_TsRurHQHVK9vD_GenPR8FGKV_cyrYRYfgqSTVPfB8ga_C139aadQt6tAaBxvA/s200/IMG_4358.jpg" width="150" /></a>I recently took my Rayzr FB on its maiden voyage, and I was not disappointed. I easily loaded it in the back of my truck, threw in some food and clothes, and headed north. The weather was miserable. I chose to go to a State campground with electrical hook-up, because I have never camped in a self-contained unit and wanted a back-up plan. At arrival, I jumped out of the truck in the pouring rain, took a few seconds to turn on the propane tank, then went inside the Rayzr. There was nothing else to set-up. I was good to go within 5 minutes of my arrival, except that it was raining so hard, I never left that night. I stayed warm and dry in the Rayzr, read a good book, made a pot of coffee on the stove, and ate some soup. I slept like a baby, and early the next morning a cold front moved in and brought a thunderstorm with it. Lying awake in a warm bed at 5:00am while the thunder boomed and the winds gusted over Lake Michigan was pure joy. As the temperatures plummeted, I tried to imagine what the conditions would be in a tent, and while I've been in that situation many times, I sure was glad I wasn't in it this time. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUohoyEvM_7XM3VYMvzttLRsY4g13lIgwvp3bJ7ujlienLni2PoTNAfdMSyK8GEaDmc6oJcMlLjwaly9TTiK_whSRgzbOU-eScGASMJUVxoq9gjBqaG8u8RobkzaGjU_3tZcgdbNIlEk/s1600/IMG_4366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUohoyEvM_7XM3VYMvzttLRsY4g13lIgwvp3bJ7ujlienLni2PoTNAfdMSyK8GEaDmc6oJcMlLjwaly9TTiK_whSRgzbOU-eScGASMJUVxoq9gjBqaG8u8RobkzaGjU_3tZcgdbNIlEk/s200/IMG_4366.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDlmQ-xB6FLBJML7l6nZJVkrVfqzTZCi8K2vrLS3A1MRBcFg1b2kX31IHgADAClUvCUmfXUSM9bv13BYlq8AIvkOhQCddH-5S0q4-SZvpHjQFRUI7sgfl6LCFKW7gexWbmfgVnvnYQiI/s1600/IMG_4369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDlmQ-xB6FLBJML7l6nZJVkrVfqzTZCi8K2vrLS3A1MRBcFg1b2kX31IHgADAClUvCUmfXUSM9bv13BYlq8AIvkOhQCddH-5S0q4-SZvpHjQFRUI7sgfl6LCFKW7gexWbmfgVnvnYQiI/s200/IMG_4369.jpg" width="150" /></a>Even with the cold and the rain that lasted a few days, I did get out and do a little hiking and exploring. I had the entire area to myself, in an empty state park. The Rayzr was a welcome site at the end of the day, when I was chilled and wet, hungry, ready for some fresh percolated coffee. It rained so much that I never would have been able to cook a hot meal outside, and I can assure you that, had I been tent camping, I would have gone home after the first night. I love to be outside, and go camping, hiking, embrace outdoor adventure of many kinds. Now there is nothing stopping me! I can go anywhere, anytime, in any weather, spend my days doing what I love outside, and have a warm, dry space waiting for me at night in the Rayzr.<br />
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My family is planning a quick ski trip, staying at my daughter's house. But there aren't enough beds for all of us, so my husband and I will be parking in the driveway and sleeping in the Rayzr. In a few weeks, I am heading over the bridge to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for a winter getaway of snowshoeing and photography. My Rayzr will keep me safe and comfortable at the end of the day.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><b>Oh! The places you'll go!</b></span></i><br />
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<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZ4KNFRfqL2dCtqppVqIV9t5vt5uTDHu2phltFKRextHR9NKqT4HDTI8WDC7NHp9h3TzSMzlOzTLi5lrmZ7_QC-8VzEzazLmcSkzB7XI1oXAxCtbT45woYFFtSa0ZI2FzZ-vtZ5veOgI/s1600/IMG_1264.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZ4KNFRfqL2dCtqppVqIV9t5vt5uTDHu2phltFKRextHR9NKqT4HDTI8WDC7NHp9h3TzSMzlOzTLi5lrmZ7_QC-8VzEzazLmcSkzB7XI1oXAxCtbT45woYFFtSa0ZI2FzZ-vtZ5veOgI/s400/IMG_1264.jpg" width="400" /></a></i><br />
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Dustin Johns is my hero. He heard what customers want, envisioned the solution, and built it. The Rayzr is the answer for so many people, especially me. The next time the wilderness whispers to me, beckoning me to get lost in the woods, I will go. I won't have to worry about where I will sleep, will I be warm, or is there enough in my budget? I can just go. Living with Dr. Seuss' timeless wisdom, Oh! The places I'll go!<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-8337484795226229682015-02-03T09:07:00.000-05:002015-02-03T09:07:51.861-05:00Shadow and Light: Patterns in Nature<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have long been fascinated with different patterns created by Mother Nature, sun, wind, water, and snow. This post is a little different for me; no long story today! Just a few images I have captured over the years - raw and unedited - of shadows and light. Please enjoy them, and feel free to post any images you have of this theme in the comments section.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqWEmKregqIZEEplu426cf_ZDUzfir6VkQ2Gz8meWvBnfmSsxH_C80xK4g6A59r52QHlNUkiSRjos7bwq7P5-rWpvoCa3woR4eGjTNW1vCwMz1vGAvyTD2Pzpb6eumSF4LLdqKrMGcTWU/s1600/Cumulus+and+Cumulonimbus+7-12-2007+501pm-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqWEmKregqIZEEplu426cf_ZDUzfir6VkQ2Gz8meWvBnfmSsxH_C80xK4g6A59r52QHlNUkiSRjos7bwq7P5-rWpvoCa3woR4eGjTNW1vCwMz1vGAvyTD2Pzpb6eumSF4LLdqKrMGcTWU/s1600/Cumulus+and+Cumulonimbus+7-12-2007+501pm-2.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a nice sunny day, a sudden storm front turned day into night. (Ludington State Park, MI)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vaGrg9c2yqXhFtTkJKNow7RbylKpUs0agXsSDjG-sxY6igO9Nestyao1Tc6VVbrMf7KKReGIdFiElBgNqQ_oug4Wh0zhdtJBaPCC3-aP1GfBEF3r5iTsKC3JLGWg-u8C8UlKveQTbSo/s1600/DSC_1118+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vaGrg9c2yqXhFtTkJKNow7RbylKpUs0agXsSDjG-sxY6igO9Nestyao1Tc6VVbrMf7KKReGIdFiElBgNqQ_oug4Wh0zhdtJBaPCC3-aP1GfBEF3r5iTsKC3JLGWg-u8C8UlKveQTbSo/s1600/DSC_1118+007.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunlight reflected on water (Clark Lake, MI)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXkSmlrvUVs1F_uTbRug9Qow8vtN8039MjptFendR9iajiGZ1XUfzqIxcGgDvTLzz76JqvfoDmct40LpArOJcQxCrwZ7i-5zaGl1YsI2uZmap-X4AK3LyjeR07GTtvxCPhYrtrpKMtfo/s1600/DSC_1821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXkSmlrvUVs1F_uTbRug9Qow8vtN8039MjptFendR9iajiGZ1XUfzqIxcGgDvTLzz76JqvfoDmct40LpArOJcQxCrwZ7i-5zaGl1YsI2uZmap-X4AK3LyjeR07GTtvxCPhYrtrpKMtfo/s1600/DSC_1821.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mud Wasp Nest. Fifty Shades of Grey?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgAbM0VxISbTEPUR5asTUTfO9Ue2Pb5N9UAZJuKDL3_Ca80z8_TyPpFTXuOjg3e-dbkw-wIebPgX_9EwM1xOaqrjwCTwWjmuigzP-Q_tPCrFdMuMc-HQeEGm8sy85kVhuDAHznZ_4l9s/s1600/DSC_4859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgAbM0VxISbTEPUR5asTUTfO9Ue2Pb5N9UAZJuKDL3_Ca80z8_TyPpFTXuOjg3e-dbkw-wIebPgX_9EwM1xOaqrjwCTwWjmuigzP-Q_tPCrFdMuMc-HQeEGm8sy85kVhuDAHznZ_4l9s/s1600/DSC_4859.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A foggy field in southern Michigan</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECYV6rUfzbdhqxQLxcafs3YOwVKFBEXsf81nPOeTUVAONGmm6aRtiBBc7Ew8rab5pSrKFHLSh-s4LGpbIfrXIwlp77QfPyGw3YvR8FsErQHvelqYKc7JmB995oPBprQ4b5CeXV9DydZ4/s1600/DSC_5603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECYV6rUfzbdhqxQLxcafs3YOwVKFBEXsf81nPOeTUVAONGmm6aRtiBBc7Ew8rab5pSrKFHLSh-s4LGpbIfrXIwlp77QfPyGw3YvR8FsErQHvelqYKc7JmB995oPBprQ4b5CeXV9DydZ4/s1600/DSC_5603.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September morn.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivyK7kA7gMjYBeXFRrMB4eNW36ydFUYtOnJ0id0SOnBnG_XWyz-sUbBvWI2Ysw97l0RGY3Oz4_vGDXEkHgEjrIwveiLe7b3nOusYtroJazUg7uUQV8LqcebFz10NJ0QVUAQ7LJfgAuBMA/s1600/DSC_6505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivyK7kA7gMjYBeXFRrMB4eNW36ydFUYtOnJ0id0SOnBnG_XWyz-sUbBvWI2Ysw97l0RGY3Oz4_vGDXEkHgEjrIwveiLe7b3nOusYtroJazUg7uUQV8LqcebFz10NJ0QVUAQ7LJfgAuBMA/s1600/DSC_6505.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some snow falls through the branches, some does not.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlHDi6TPM4Nrc3Gccl5zqeI2t0Bn5MQ-sCUxvgvMo8Q26Fi3ejaQV81BhJkW55PH2xUOFWUF317rj-ltbLvdGBFlsPcmtEGvR8TZZDnp03rHZbQnsC32XFvLjrRA_rqq8XQF-ydSsZ3zI/s1600/DSC_6543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlHDi6TPM4Nrc3Gccl5zqeI2t0Bn5MQ-sCUxvgvMo8Q26Fi3ejaQV81BhJkW55PH2xUOFWUF317rj-ltbLvdGBFlsPcmtEGvR8TZZDnp03rHZbQnsC32XFvLjrRA_rqq8XQF-ydSsZ3zI/s1600/DSC_6543.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polka dots!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE2j-T8uk-45eefHjAGadjvFvFRpUA7SBhsNronFcdCIUezVZRzAOVGfdxDtPSunbaJyUl_Jll9AXgV6qMRxDoROA3aqdi29TtHuB7JKeHO2fnH_7KaVgZ-SYB5_xThegN3bgIkN2LXHY/s1600/DSC_6567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE2j-T8uk-45eefHjAGadjvFvFRpUA7SBhsNronFcdCIUezVZRzAOVGfdxDtPSunbaJyUl_Jll9AXgV6qMRxDoROA3aqdi29TtHuB7JKeHO2fnH_7KaVgZ-SYB5_xThegN3bgIkN2LXHY/s1600/DSC_6567.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow, with a few sparkles from the sun</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnK0WzbIWyQznG3FRqyZ0bSH8I7FTL4pXCVzZ2wAfSjX7EKbSd2Wbu_NhrULN692zJH6J7ptoFcBb4KERAHW5kcB0rv7yHVybWRXhVd65-VazNN_sq6CpAAcOq45qrQ3YZpVTR1exo3pw/s1600/DSC_6571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnK0WzbIWyQznG3FRqyZ0bSH8I7FTL4pXCVzZ2wAfSjX7EKbSd2Wbu_NhrULN692zJH6J7ptoFcBb4KERAHW5kcB0rv7yHVybWRXhVd65-VazNN_sq6CpAAcOq45qrQ3YZpVTR1exo3pw/s1600/DSC_6571.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wind blown snow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBge0TcCHStigfWjtnDEbo_mYtcTj0MK29K-AntkOcES-4Mm3pfG1obQTnYbRH9We87KWZNv7Wu1LV8XCtZWz_JVzhRR9q6EDmX4QLJl4yv3k4B6RH3D0PI-3Ukk4BPrHthR4tUhV-TDU/s1600/DSC_6572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBge0TcCHStigfWjtnDEbo_mYtcTj0MK29K-AntkOcES-4Mm3pfG1obQTnYbRH9We87KWZNv7Wu1LV8XCtZWz_JVzhRR9q6EDmX4QLJl4yv3k4B6RH3D0PI-3Ukk4BPrHthR4tUhV-TDU/s1600/DSC_6572.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More patterns made by the wind</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGd5Os2AcsfzdfRQzbMdzPm3fUA6nk6EOSqOLGUYAfWOsEDrXyBbQx5LLs_DuoTe_ZNRBzupoCaoUWNRzm3dbmMYLvYecnGbmCjBZgQHPyFimSK5JZQZje27r_CzSu38nGabrrpdLJqc/s1600/DSC_6590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGd5Os2AcsfzdfRQzbMdzPm3fUA6nk6EOSqOLGUYAfWOsEDrXyBbQx5LLs_DuoTe_ZNRBzupoCaoUWNRzm3dbmMYLvYecnGbmCjBZgQHPyFimSK5JZQZje27r_CzSu38nGabrrpdLJqc/s1600/DSC_6590.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmvREZ_yVQ-x5tGr17neK_htbsB8dh6GdmIWm90kWcuCeW1bN5wYaBB7M3vS5PiKjoupKKQ1VUcvNqqkKWnMIfIudDK_uYHY0dA11xDWI7OZTz4JXC7GqA_EfQof-Uzysjd80C2_F6kk/s1600/DSC_6591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmvREZ_yVQ-x5tGr17neK_htbsB8dh6GdmIWm90kWcuCeW1bN5wYaBB7M3vS5PiKjoupKKQ1VUcvNqqkKWnMIfIudDK_uYHY0dA11xDWI7OZTz4JXC7GqA_EfQof-Uzysjd80C2_F6kk/s1600/DSC_6591.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJcRG9WcV3yLl2UEP1MTkLGbdIEx4of2gwhziRdzelidigAWSwKDPgZ-_D6i-9F7Pxj12XKGrV-5MRR8ah0fDkr5l1OwxtbBe0GPDoaIkR2pLzI2Q7pqTG4p1L0xSjfYQrPaVcu0G0g0/s1600/DSC_6592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJcRG9WcV3yLl2UEP1MTkLGbdIEx4of2gwhziRdzelidigAWSwKDPgZ-_D6i-9F7Pxj12XKGrV-5MRR8ah0fDkr5l1OwxtbBe0GPDoaIkR2pLzI2Q7pqTG4p1L0xSjfYQrPaVcu0G0g0/s1600/DSC_6592.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tree shadows, brought to you by the sun</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wD6RIMvtlAeYO4BQ4h-QjWegPHps4VD0ZqL6O9BkU8nOunfcTxM6IMqIAbfJvEXpEpBghUq0TslF5bimpLh44pboeEW-LM_ISS_k2nYpv3F-Cqm7wNM3bJmNtxHb6GzsAr0I7r4aNtA/s1600/DSC_6596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wD6RIMvtlAeYO4BQ4h-QjWegPHps4VD0ZqL6O9BkU8nOunfcTxM6IMqIAbfJvEXpEpBghUq0TslF5bimpLh44pboeEW-LM_ISS_k2nYpv3F-Cqm7wNM3bJmNtxHb6GzsAr0I7r4aNtA/s1600/DSC_6596.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXL_xy5ksNPM6vN78NN0CwJqJuJnVrdgG8HjcTDLv5eKRYwn7zL_OlRKlXlhX91HIRFQTupnl1sBOJ6fEd44-N9grsTxXCRED3gDH5Nmi3eDJ-5CwsaIrdDMvbip0lF-PTNYt7cOKmPt0/s1600/DSCN3074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXL_xy5ksNPM6vN78NN0CwJqJuJnVrdgG8HjcTDLv5eKRYwn7zL_OlRKlXlhX91HIRFQTupnl1sBOJ6fEd44-N9grsTxXCRED3gDH5Nmi3eDJ-5CwsaIrdDMvbip0lF-PTNYt7cOKmPt0/s1600/DSCN3074.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The horizontal pattern made by the snow mimics the vertical pattern of the tree bark.</td></tr>
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-5947698639190575642015-01-30T11:57:00.001-05:002015-01-30T11:57:44.290-05:00The Bear Is Not The Scariest Thing In The Woods<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WYicQuSkKtb1ZcrZbNNzfnnR9nlU0qpv4s0doyJn5bv8foBQa3dEcDENQRNFk3_qibphCUBJbBw4xG4OLeXhHEWXufjc0EO33S4uF98wXWdU_7MqpJAMI7Hj48ZBgh6BVqzlLrE8lyY/s1600/DSC_7880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WYicQuSkKtb1ZcrZbNNzfnnR9nlU0qpv4s0doyJn5bv8foBQa3dEcDENQRNFk3_qibphCUBJbBw4xG4OLeXhHEWXufjc0EO33S4uF98wXWdU_7MqpJAMI7Hj48ZBgh6BVqzlLrE8lyY/s1600/DSC_7880.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>For several years, I have dragged my best buddy, Debbie, into the wilderness while she kicked and screamed and sang patriotic songs to scare off the bears. Armed with her telescoping hiking stick, a whistle, and a complete repertoire of songs about the good ole' U.S. of A., Debbie reluctantly followed me into remote areas, where her pretty little head never stopped moving as she constantly scanned the woods and wildflowers for bear, coyote, wolves, and all other manner of life-threatening wildlife.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGeCJmQINaaLnuhxv55uqOfSGRR-ZIQyx9N-ToPXmt3yUZ37RiWokydVraLzV1371hGZqC9LfAu06hgCGhnL-bARdme-eyhFXQE6Ed-7nkS_1rUE_lPL6IkO_l534x5aZXz9ioYd-KKQ/s1600/DSCN3292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGeCJmQINaaLnuhxv55uqOfSGRR-ZIQyx9N-ToPXmt3yUZ37RiWokydVraLzV1371hGZqC9LfAu06hgCGhnL-bARdme-eyhFXQE6Ed-7nkS_1rUE_lPL6IkO_l534x5aZXz9ioYd-KKQ/s1600/DSCN3292.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
After I got Debbie lost in the wilderness for 11 hours, I promised her that if she would continue to join me each year for our annual camping trip, I would change my obnoxious ways, allow her to stay firmly rooted in her comfort zone, and make the trip "nice". I was happy enough to save my adventures for another time, instead tailoring the trip to a more civilized method of camping, just because I treasure my time spent with Debbie and want her to treasure the memories of our trips as well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUftMmKAmVnSSY8Kne5i2aK3c4S3SvigieJw53M-MdeYZIqbT3NcbPcqu0M3KUVFuYIn39y0bEjxBU6BJaTTQvIMeUTNZ4OVg_Bmn_eyTrP1LcPrhKkeDPSVOsl-zXuTMbhLHRPOxU4g/s1600/DSC_5269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUftMmKAmVnSSY8Kne5i2aK3c4S3SvigieJw53M-MdeYZIqbT3NcbPcqu0M3KUVFuYIn39y0bEjxBU6BJaTTQvIMeUTNZ4OVg_Bmn_eyTrP1LcPrhKkeDPSVOsl-zXuTMbhLHRPOxU4g/s1600/DSC_5269.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Last year, I chose to camp at Petoskey State Park, which is the creme of the crop in the Michigan State Park System. Debbie was excited to wander around Petoskey, visit a French antiques store she knew of, sleep in her cozy bed in the tin can, and sit beside a warm campfire reading a good book. She was most excited to be camping on the shore of Lake Michigan, where she could wander aimlessly on the beach without getting lost, search for Petoskey stones, and fall asleep to the sound of waves gently lapping on the shore.<br />
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Even though Petoskey State Park is surrounded by hardwoods and conifer stands, giving it that rustic feel, I assured Debbie we were in an urban area and would not be accosted by a bear at our campsite. I said, "Trust me", which raised an eyebrow with Debbie, who learned long ago not to trust me in the woods, but she felt comfortable with our surroundings and did not break into a rousing rendition of "God Bless America". I assured her we had nothing to be concerned about this time.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgi6lOTQ7stkB9NSm83f3lFPLiGVsc64x2-WJgKaEeXh3kZ3H-OYmijbDpWfUPRFkoQumuX8Vu0mSc1fuHknNDYDRtX_uEqdlQl4NryCvrxeMBYs2lRMyHYtDsGXSKINghZZ1K0E3f8Q/s1600/DSC_5338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgi6lOTQ7stkB9NSm83f3lFPLiGVsc64x2-WJgKaEeXh3kZ3H-OYmijbDpWfUPRFkoQumuX8Vu0mSc1fuHknNDYDRtX_uEqdlQl4NryCvrxeMBYs2lRMyHYtDsGXSKINghZZ1K0E3f8Q/s1600/DSC_5338.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><br />
We should have known the bear in the woods would not be our biggest problem.<br />
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We had only been at the campground a short time when we both needed to visit the restroom, and then wanted to walk around the park, checking out other campers and finding trails (for me) and paths to the beach (for Debbie). As we walked up the sidewalk to the bathroom, a sudden, awful, screeching sound had us stopping in our tracks. As we turned, a car (and I use the term loosely) laden with conservation bumper stickers announcing the arrival of a proud tree-hugger who was driving an ancient, rusted hatchback slammed to a stop in front of the bathroom. A man, who appeared quite manic and possibly crazy, jumped out of the car and yelled "Hey!" to us. Debbie took a step closer to me, (actually, she pretty much hid behind me) while the man launched a verbal assault on us, the campground, Michigan, and the perils of traveling from Maine to Minnesota through states that simply do NOT understand the joy of cross-country journeys.<br />
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We've all been in that frustrated frame of mind when things are not going well on a long trip, but Guy from Maine was over the top. He was downright scary! His longish grey hair was flying out from his head, spittle was spewing from his mouth, and his raised voice attracted the attention of other campers. His main beef was having to pay $24 to park overnight and sleep in his car. I told him there was a State Forest Campground 5 miles up the road, where he could stay in his car for $14, but that only angered him further. He also was very upset because there was no one at the check-in station.<br />
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Enough time had passed listening to Guy from Maine rant and rave that the bathroom was now becoming a serious issue for me. In an effort to remove Guy from Maine from the direct path between me and the bathroom door, I calmly explained self check-in to him, suggesting he drive through the campground, choose a few sites he liked, and check the list at the station for availability. He finally got back in his time-warped vehicle and sped off.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9kEh0jpoNbUjoBwLzxMdQzijNAnN60KqZdYLAZHaFeD8WkbZkqpUuI7DGuz9guui4yoeUba0Xh04YrzDLlLNxoFLMXqAG7G3Mz7aSxpYg_0cSzY7RMox5za7LBoAmpIFwWflVHiLNtSs/s1600/DSC_5299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9kEh0jpoNbUjoBwLzxMdQzijNAnN60KqZdYLAZHaFeD8WkbZkqpUuI7DGuz9guui4yoeUba0Xh04YrzDLlLNxoFLMXqAG7G3Mz7aSxpYg_0cSzY7RMox5za7LBoAmpIFwWflVHiLNtSs/s1600/DSC_5299.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Whew! The guy was weird, and manic, and a little fearsome. I hustled to the bathroom, and as the rain started to fall, Debbie and I opened our umbrellas and set out to explore the park. We walked for about 45 minutes, noting the location of other campers, deciding the number of campers made us feel like we weren't all alone, but the distance they all placed between campsites was good for privacy and quiet. There were several loops in the campground, and everybody had spread out.<br />
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As we approached our campsite, Debbie grabbed my arm and stopped. She pointed, I looked, and crazy Guy from Maine had parked his car directly across from the tin can. Of all the empty sites in the campground, he chooses to park right on top of us? Creepy.<br />
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We were a little uncomfortable with his presence. I kept trying to convince Debbie, and myself, that cross-country travel can be stressful, Guy from Maine was just having a bad day, he's probably a really nice guy under normal circumstances. Neither of us was buying it. He was just scary. We stayed close to the tin can, kept our eyes open, and watched his every move. Guy from Maine sat in his little car for a while, listening to a baseball game on the radio, which we could hear loud and clear. We saw him get out of his car, disappear, and then make an unexpected appearance right behind us when he came up from the beach. He complained about the beach, said it wasn't very nice.<br />
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Later, without saying a word, Guy from Maine strode right through our campsite to walk on a trail behind us. Talk about rude! He made us uneasy all evening, coming and going and pacing and mumbling. We gave up trying to relax by the fire, and went in the tin can. Three times I left my bed to make sure the door was locked on the tin can. Three times Debbie said, "The door is locked, right?" I had my dog, Rooney, and some personal protection items, which I kept right next to the bed.<br />
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I don't normally run into this problem. People who camp and spend their time outdoors are good people. I have never felt threatened. Guy from Maine took away my sense of peace, my ability to relax. He drove me into the camper, which is not how I camp at all. It was sad.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0MJK2VD3w1Q762jLJWjSMTHIr-GMxYn34qZSXZTaDiviZ8-1GuhkDuchL5rCmz-uxUSCuo1E8xmiz8DAkS_lG6QfI8FrzapZJrZE6v-sijhfeaQrasGROZMy_vWm-95x1FOn9rkr10Q/s1600/DSC_0707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0MJK2VD3w1Q762jLJWjSMTHIr-GMxYn34qZSXZTaDiviZ8-1GuhkDuchL5rCmz-uxUSCuo1E8xmiz8DAkS_lG6QfI8FrzapZJrZE6v-sijhfeaQrasGROZMy_vWm-95x1FOn9rkr10Q/s1600/DSC_0707.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>The next morning, I awoke early to the feel of Rooney staring at my head and drooling. He needed to go outside. I dressed, fill my pockets with safety devices like pepper spray, a knife, and an alarm, and cautiously stuck my head out the door. Guy from Maine was gone. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or more scared wondering if he was <i>really</i> gone.<br />
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Debbie and I spent the rest of our trip enjoying the area, walking the beach, reading by the fire, laughing, and then laughing some more. But each night, as we sat by the fire after the sun went down, if we heard a snap! in the woods, we both jumped. We were almost hoping it was a bear, and not Guy from Maine coming back with a chainsaw and hatchet. You can imagine the scenarios that were running through our heads. I could still <i>feel</i> his presence, <i>smell</i> him lurking in the woods. It didn't help that I was reading a James Patterson novel.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO_V19uq3JbhaIq-VDZXBpoRg7-PC7-LKHlGdiNslAPYo9If3aNOxuWE1-VMZ4bFbemTdUTlQiZgkmgDPUHE8j5BDv39Hk71C0vcJE6A4LZECM49zd1rS80fd8XQliQiFfx6-Yg0W640/s1600/DSC_5270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO_V19uq3JbhaIq-VDZXBpoRg7-PC7-LKHlGdiNslAPYo9If3aNOxuWE1-VMZ4bFbemTdUTlQiZgkmgDPUHE8j5BDv39Hk71C0vcJE6A4LZECM49zd1rS80fd8XQliQiFfx6-Yg0W640/s1600/DSC_5270.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>It was, overall, a great trip. But the dark shadow of Guy from Maine hung over us the whole time and served to remind us that the bear in the woods is not necessarily the scariest thing we might encounter. Another lesson learned. Be aware, be prepared, be safe. I hope Guy from Maine made it to Minnesota, I hope the rest of his trip was better. I hope he was just having a bad day on the road and we only saw the worst of him. I also hope we never run into him again!<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-79715963056935172722015-01-27T12:57:00.000-05:002015-01-27T12:57:00.657-05:00I Got Lucky at Tahquamenon Falls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Every year, I venture to Michigan's Upper Peninsula to experience a real Yooper Winter. All alone, I have hiked, snowshoed, crawled, and pushed my way through 3 feet of snow (or more) in sub-zero temperatures to live outdoors under harsh conditions. I have driven in blizzards, witnessed a fatal car accident during a white-out, and generally been so scared and cold and miserable, I question my sanity and motives.<br />
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But this year I got lucky. When Mike Wendland, of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/roadtreking/" target="_blank">Roadtreking: The Group</a>, posted an open call to Roadtrekers for a Winter No Rules Rally at Tahquamenon Falls, I asked if I could join him, even though I don't own a <a href="http://www.roadtrek.com/" target="_blank">Roadtrek</a> or any kind of Class B Motorhome. Mike assured me I was welcome. I packed up my Yukon for a winter weekend of car camping and headed north.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_yfINreb15_zNPTMA3Sn0IAY2tni-Lehu9b1gvZikbSERC4dfbuZRu5cEjYFFoRfHSEbxwmHJo4mX0K8szgWRw_thXJ5TdC8FzlgWRJNXC4qCI7FD1LW7LBThS1wOZSD32cuvMi7tpI/s1600/IMG_1951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_yfINreb15_zNPTMA3Sn0IAY2tni-Lehu9b1gvZikbSERC4dfbuZRu5cEjYFFoRfHSEbxwmHJo4mX0K8szgWRw_thXJ5TdC8FzlgWRJNXC4qCI7FD1LW7LBThS1wOZSD32cuvMi7tpI/s1600/IMG_1951.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>I decided to leave a day early, giving myself time to figure out the whole "living in my car like a homeless person" thing before the others arrived. I got lucky with clear skies, clear roads, and mild temperatures in the upper 20's, making it to the U.P. in a record 5 hours. Arriving at <a href="http://www.michigandnr.com/parksandtrails/Details.aspx?type=SPRK&id=428" target="_blank">Tahquamenon Falls State Park</a>, I set up a small tent, placed a tarp on the floor, and created my own bathroom with the <a href="https://www.relianceproducts.com/products/sanitation/96.html" target="_blank">Luggable Loo</a>, a folding table, and a bowl to pour hot water in to wash up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzBSFD8TgbXaK-s5b5LWFXMFmajAMqy6saFLhQE66cDDCBaG3mIcXay2sJ5SSCse9MDutfPfOLqnSYE9bqiHrZRbHdA3n9zL7MoQSMUvneXdHbchq01ikCrfnVssqJ8MevwVzkXeALa0/s1600/IMG_1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzBSFD8TgbXaK-s5b5LWFXMFmajAMqy6saFLhQE66cDDCBaG3mIcXay2sJ5SSCse9MDutfPfOLqnSYE9bqiHrZRbHdA3n9zL7MoQSMUvneXdHbchq01ikCrfnVssqJ8MevwVzkXeALa0/s1600/IMG_1952.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The Yukon was then converted to a rustic cabin, with an electric extension cord running through the window, an electric heater set on high, and an electric blanket in my sleeping bag. Everything I needed to survive was in the back of the vehicle, including warm layers of clothing, food, a <a href="http://www.jetboil.com/" target="_blank">Jet Boil Stove</a>, jugs of water, a lantern, and a good book, which I never read because I was having too much fun all weekend.<br />
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At the suggestion of a Roadtreker from the group, I bought an insulating product called <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ReflectixInsulation" target="_blank">Reflectix</a>. For $23, I easily cut pieces from the roll to fit every window in my car. It made all the difference in keeping the car warm with just a small space heater. However, I didn't plan on spending much time in the car, so I started looking for the fire pit outside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFHbghJEiI-eVnIR7nDdMR1nA_NibEi4XEx0D57dUSX56ZCxrN3XewDPitHhyphenhyphenNsd0iMyCptTDyPUEfgqHeaXI-6PmdTsiQGsmYmXRUtz4dORnbWpYvJCF4RcHOeiMa7EUHlnU2BEZhyo/s1600/IMG_1954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFHbghJEiI-eVnIR7nDdMR1nA_NibEi4XEx0D57dUSX56ZCxrN3XewDPitHhyphenhyphenNsd0iMyCptTDyPUEfgqHeaXI-6PmdTsiQGsmYmXRUtz4dORnbWpYvJCF4RcHOeiMa7EUHlnU2BEZhyo/s1600/IMG_1954.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>The staff at Tahquamenon Falls State Park had plowed enough sites for our group, one of the largest groups the park has ever seen winter camping on the same weekend. Unfortunately, when they plowed my site, they buried the fire pit under 6 feet of snow. I got lucky again when one of the rangers came by and gave permission for a ground fire. With 30" of snow on the ground, it was a safe bet I wouldn't burn down the campground. I dug a path through the snow, dug a hole, and started a roaring bonfire. My evening was perfect.<br />
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The first night in the car was less than perfect. I folded the backs of the rear seats down and spread a camp pad door-to-door, with a sleeping bag and electric blanket on top. This left me no headroom, so my first challenge was undressing while lying down. Once settled in the sleeping bag, I quickly realized that I didn't have enough room to straighten my legs, forcing me to sleep on my side. Then my other side. Then the first side again. I tossed, turned, rolled, and contorted myself all night, never getting comfortable and sleeping little. With the insulated windows and the space heater, I was too hot. I turned the space heater off. Then I opened the sleeping bag, tried to straighten the tangled mass of the electric blanket (while still lying on it), rearranged myself, and tried again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWLdBsGUMjT18rLUHMg4Mnn2RD3LPwyjimIlFsuXTHLHuQO-i_ygKcf1_mpj2nHazlJ-oHBKecSxmHMxVlMrbFof6NDIVRGWH9rviawRDM8IAX6ZfFmyyt4w9HtMLh9K-u8ls4QZdHqI/s1600/DSCN3088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWLdBsGUMjT18rLUHMg4Mnn2RD3LPwyjimIlFsuXTHLHuQO-i_ygKcf1_mpj2nHazlJ-oHBKecSxmHMxVlMrbFof6NDIVRGWH9rviawRDM8IAX6ZfFmyyt4w9HtMLh9K-u8ls4QZdHqI/s1600/DSCN3088.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I was up before daylight, just so I could stretch my legs and move my aching joints. Opening the door and stepping outside, I was greeted with a winter wonderland. Snow falling, complete quiet, sun just starting to rise. I went for a walk, and met the first Roadtreker who had arrived last night, Malu from Canada. We walked in the snow and got to know each other a bit, then started greeting other Roadtrekers as they pulled in. Unfortunately, the temperatures were still mild and the falling snow was very wet, soaking my coat and boots. By lunchtime, I was wet and chilled, and wondering how I would dry my stuff out. I got lucky when Malu came to my rescue. She invited me to sit in her warm Roadtrek for a cup of coffee. I hung my coat just inside the door, put my boots in front of her heater, and sat back for engaging conversation and hot coffee.<br />
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Malu had traveled alone from Ontario, Canada. Her Roadtrek was bought used, and she had made some minor modifications to fit her needs. The Roadtreks aren't roomy, like a larger Class C Motorhome, but you can stand up straight, her modified bed was wider, she had a kitchen, and even a bathroom! Because it was winter, all the Roadtrekers had winterized their vehicles, using water from jugs just like me and dumping it in a tub. They flush their toilets with RV Antifreeze. I was a little envious.<br />
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Malu and I stayed in her Roadtrek until my coat and boots were dry, then Mike Wendland, our <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrkmSEWFJlc4rmq5BITpNYq2cOQBfP2p95KlnsGOI9dDm2QYVhFIhgdcPOG_1NchvOt9y7gWwNHt9pTv8LjRaTdkQLnDk8vrTtxVFsw2lXLBme_zE8oPVK8kttSqZZmg2XkkLo0x_C7Q/s1600/Mike+and+Jen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrkmSEWFJlc4rmq5BITpNYq2cOQBfP2p95KlnsGOI9dDm2QYVhFIhgdcPOG_1NchvOt9y7gWwNHt9pTv8LjRaTdkQLnDk8vrTtxVFsw2lXLBme_zE8oPVK8kttSqZZmg2XkkLo0x_C7Q/s1600/Mike+and+Jen.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jennifer and Mike<br />Photo Credit: Mike Wendland</td></tr>
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Captain for the weekend, arrived with his wife, Jennifer, and Tai the dog. We bundled up and went outside to greet them. Others were arriving as well. Everyone stood together, greetings exchanged, when a man walked up to us, not quite dressed for the weather. It turns out, Darryl and his wife had driven all the way here from Georgia to experience their first winter. Ever. In their Roadtrek. Awesome.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSWMiof3ELFHLpAL91mFzWmg3N44QX_k8y5e7v8iH0kD-MNtpsvBDWjCDFhjKmJnwq33VWvIZoO-BuvgQzBibitLDLY67pgDNIwJI_xopRMNn3zIfuTIFpiDHlVwzJ9HmZ78lzJhtzTo/s1600/Night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSWMiof3ELFHLpAL91mFzWmg3N44QX_k8y5e7v8iH0kD-MNtpsvBDWjCDFhjKmJnwq33VWvIZoO-BuvgQzBibitLDLY67pgDNIwJI_xopRMNn3zIfuTIFpiDHlVwzJ9HmZ78lzJhtzTo/s1600/Night.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Roadtreker Jeff Martyka</td></tr>
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Dinner at the Upper Falls Brewery brought more new faces, all Roadtrekers who enjoy the freedom of simply unplugging their vehicle and driving off to the restaurant. A nighttime walk to the falls, then a bonfire back at the campground, where I met my RT neighbor Jeff. We didn't see much of Jeff, because this necktie salesman was off Fatbiking and snowshoeing and hiking, and even going solo to the falls at night to experiment with his fabulous photography. At the first bonfire, one of us may or may not have introduced Fireball as a means for keeping warm. We had a group of 25 hearty winter campers, all ready to play like kids again in the snow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySieklTysvzR-wNhpA8ze7l_VeDQkFjkFQ4p3Ng3P5cRIl4aoiXQESo2hOe3HPckiV8O-MlQH-F-xUBLchuieYRUVgTaH2xOHblwoSkgLmoGzFAF6QS-HnqPtPQ7atNGaJSGnFfwfS8c/s1600/DSCN3095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySieklTysvzR-wNhpA8ze7l_VeDQkFjkFQ4p3Ng3P5cRIl4aoiXQESo2hOe3HPckiV8O-MlQH-F-xUBLchuieYRUVgTaH2xOHblwoSkgLmoGzFAF6QS-HnqPtPQ7atNGaJSGnFfwfS8c/s1600/DSCN3095.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sargeant Carolyn </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkAsnM08soRJcXudUdnf9hZOlOsGpB5MamcrLYZeWm7HXS19d1fvb-SvzKxEUhmozKAz4JGedkjE-O7CdBTDgByFi15_kSSMri1wGhdcOEwxfb0sF80TEqkB5xCc75WFL5es6FnR1lnY/s1600/DSCN3107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkAsnM08soRJcXudUdnf9hZOlOsGpB5MamcrLYZeWm7HXS19d1fvb-SvzKxEUhmozKAz4JGedkjE-O7CdBTDgByFi15_kSSMri1wGhdcOEwxfb0sF80TEqkB5xCc75WFL5es6FnR1lnY/s1600/DSCN3107.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I got really lucky Saturday morning when I met Jim and Rhonda, who invited me into their Roadtrek for warmth and coffee. Note to self: One-cup coffee makers do not work with distilled water. But once Jim figured out the problem and used regular water, I had a nice, hot cup of coffee with their dog, Cricket, in my lap. We all got lucky with unseasonable temps in the mid-thirties, and throughout the day, we snowshoed to the lower falls as a group, with Sergeant Carolyn leading the way and not putting up with any foolishness. Some of us did our own thing later, and I drove out to Whitefish Point, which was 20 degrees colder with a monster wind coming off Lake Superior, while others snowshoed some more, explored the area, or napped in their warm Roadtreks. One Roadtreker, Jeff, even went exploring on his Fat Tire Bike.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2_j5ilQp50xo_lac_MKcE89u9BemcDQqmDZyIAXkI3zMMVB2z5YBqYZ72NZEXSX3oZR6vxLuqw5RJ8VEgoDbdCf9dx-Sqdw9pPiP8ZK-_vaWFk2_8bGWq4JVHXTxfnKde_z_1DMyY2W4/s1600/DSCN3128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2_j5ilQp50xo_lac_MKcE89u9BemcDQqmDZyIAXkI3zMMVB2z5YBqYZ72NZEXSX3oZR6vxLuqw5RJ8VEgoDbdCf9dx-Sqdw9pPiP8ZK-_vaWFk2_8bGWq4JVHXTxfnKde_z_1DMyY2W4/s1600/DSCN3128.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Superior at Whitefish Point</td></tr>
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I've never been much of a "group" person, choosing to go it alone and welcoming the solitude. But Roadtrekers are not your average group. The No Rules Rally was quickly becoming one of my favorite trips of all time, due to the warmth and grace of the people who embrace exploring, new experiences, and lots of laughter.<br />
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There is good reason why they all travel in their Roadtreks. I was welcomed into many of the Class B Motorhomes, and they are very comfortable. I would have thought the smaller size of a home on wheels would feel confining, but through ingenious design, the Roadtreks feel spacious, even with 3 people and a dog inside. There is much more storage space than I have in my Airstream Trailer (and certainly a lot more than inside my car!), with useful space conveniently arranged for ease. The best part of a Roadtrek, though, is the versatility it offers for travel. Completely self-contained, a Roadtrek allows it's proud owners the freedom to go anywhere, for long periods of time. Many of the Roadtrekers modify their homes with solar panels, extra batteries, wider beds, and additional tables, which just adds to the ease of their travels. They can boondock, which means they can park overnight (often free of charge) with no hookups and still have full functionality. Because of their compact size, parking is not a problem, small campsites are easy to access, and a Roadtrek can handle the dirt roads that lead to some of the best places in America. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGM3X4afAfb5Fdcfag4EwWwvK1xLYeu-pr90I9EfuQsIpXabDGZWKUL3lKxBk3GzYz8t9t1T_9IldtKLLkL8r9D0o9aTNCg0V3I-Lj9XIgQ4EowUFbw7LJhiRyQdoylAANlpgffbdyqE/s1600/Roadtrek_RS-Adventurous_PLIN_001_300dpiReduced_RGB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGM3X4afAfb5Fdcfag4EwWwvK1xLYeu-pr90I9EfuQsIpXabDGZWKUL3lKxBk3GzYz8t9t1T_9IldtKLLkL8r9D0o9aTNCg0V3I-Lj9XIgQ4EowUFbw7LJhiRyQdoylAANlpgffbdyqE/s1600/Roadtrek_RS-Adventurous_PLIN_001_300dpiReduced_RGB.jpg" height="209" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: www.roadtrek.com</td></tr>
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The people who own Roadtreks are even better. Darryl and Taera bought theirs just to provide a place to sleep for their two dogs and cat while the couple stayed in hotels. Vowing to never sleep in the Roadtrek, Taera didn't need much time to change her ways and embrace a life on the open road. Hotels are a thing of the past for them now! There were new Roadtreks and old Roadtreks, extended versions and compact versions. RTer's use their Roadtreks to visit family without imposing, to go grocery shopping, or to carry artwork to a show. Peter uses his Roadtrek to raise his son, Grant, with a sense of adventure and an appreciation for being outside. Others load up their dogs and grandchildren for day trips. And they travel to see America the way it was meant to be seen, by parking their home and getting outside. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0P7taI5cW-ZgmMhU7iH3qjaUeRJTLR79u0YWTSL3Gl30wj8g1b1DdyR4QDfCCaRPW9k_LEjkjGHBJaZSLYY7-p6TSJUUzLPbYvKBmPMcmIWI5-q0f2Hf1sk2s_QMbaPKRh2Ne732GJeU/s1600/Bonfire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0P7taI5cW-ZgmMhU7iH3qjaUeRJTLR79u0YWTSL3Gl30wj8g1b1DdyR4QDfCCaRPW9k_LEjkjGHBJaZSLYY7-p6TSJUUzLPbYvKBmPMcmIWI5-q0f2Hf1sk2s_QMbaPKRh2Ne732GJeU/s1600/Bonfire.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Saturday night, while sitting under a brilliant canopy of stars and feeling the temperature drop rapidly, we enjoyed a final bonfire and shared stories of the weekend. We were approached by another camper, who wasn't part of the Roadtrek Rally but had pulled a huge Fifth Wheel Travel Trailer with a Toy Hauler in the back into an impossibly small campsite. He stood there a moment, and during a lull in the conversation, he spoke. <br />
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"I've been watching you guys all day. While I've been trying to get my snowmobile to run and hanging out in the Fifth Wheel, you guys have been outside all day. I saw you go snowshoeing, and hiking, and you stand outside around the fire. I'm starting to understand that you guys have got it right, that what you are doing is the way it should be done." <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1_TPHtou4OF-6BLTvtMVIQnzjDV7Fo81hSfdHBm01rEkTnJ709-ch9CHGtjRFGSX9nhQNRr9ARJ8tyfK2Snsz1PrW60YCsSoGah05cv6e0lOWrkZEptQzpjtTSs0f81dCFa0DzoaVsg/s1600/Squirrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1_TPHtou4OF-6BLTvtMVIQnzjDV7Fo81hSfdHBm01rEkTnJ709-ch9CHGtjRFGSX9nhQNRr9ARJ8tyfK2Snsz1PrW60YCsSoGah05cv6e0lOWrkZEptQzpjtTSs0f81dCFa0DzoaVsg/s1600/Squirrel.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squirrel House<br />Photo Credit: Yan Seiner</td></tr>
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He had a point. Snowmobiling is fun, but you miss out on conversation, and the sound of running rivers and waterfalls. You can't hear the snow falling, or the birds singing. You don't see the squirrel run across your path and disappear into a hole, the way Yan did. You miss the animal tracks and the ensuing debate over whether they belong to a Pine Marten or a Coyote. You spend half your day kicking a machine that won't run, instead of laughing at yourself for snowshoeing on your derrière.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFNJtbIMGTmK-ze_LkJsmDTUCK_GYj6a4iT5qO6gT-35mnNhAMXpcZKkVwPeub8R93h69iTJSlMqJ3mk8GATR_oJUndeuj84FQ2bDkHitxgFJGz6TZzOJV8Ko2XLdvsc6q1n5Nc0dw0c/s1600/DSCN3148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFNJtbIMGTmK-ze_LkJsmDTUCK_GYj6a4iT5qO6gT-35mnNhAMXpcZKkVwPeub8R93h69iTJSlMqJ3mk8GATR_oJUndeuj84FQ2bDkHitxgFJGz6TZzOJV8Ko2XLdvsc6q1n5Nc0dw0c/s1600/DSCN3148.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Yeah, I'd say the Roadtrekers got it right that weekend. At the end of it all, Mike Wendland awarded me with a Roadtrek hat, making me an official honorary member of the Roadtreking Group. I am both proud and humbled to be considered one of them. I got lucky at Tahquamenon Falls, meeting such a great group of adventurous people and having a terrific weekend outside full of winter activities, laughter, and new friends.<br />
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On Sunday morning, the temperature was -6Âş F. My bed stayed warm, but the heat didn't travel to the back of the Yukon, and my water was frozen, my propane heater was frozen, even my toothbrush was frozen. The tent frame was frozen together, the Luggable Loo was frozen too. I got lucky with milder weather most of the weekend, because if it had been this cold all weekend, I wouldn't have made it. As I was using a clicker lighter to thaw the tent poles, I watched all the Roadtrekers unplug their vehicles and drive out, waving happily to me from their warm cabs. Maybe, some day, if I'm lucky, I will be able to buy a Roadtrek and go anywhere, in any weather, and then just drive off. For now, I will be content to bask in the warmth of new friends, new experiences, and new goals while I pack up my frozen stuff using fingers I can no longer feel and trudge over to the pit toilet as I longingly stare at the taillights of all the departing Roadtreks. I can't wait for next year's No Rules Rally!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSU4H3knc9biuMVQ25A0GFoYSEgySuXuqZoQg0_qHYUHQcr0zZMusxi3ETtOUsP-2yemf90qeMcvMmeF63u0naIeR_-RXxL6vDnU_9UJco-K_6w02Ho-fIHLXmaf9WZddH9AcUmNKHI0/s1600/Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSU4H3knc9biuMVQ25A0GFoYSEgySuXuqZoQg0_qHYUHQcr0zZMusxi3ETtOUsP-2yemf90qeMcvMmeF63u0naIeR_-RXxL6vDnU_9UJco-K_6w02Ho-fIHLXmaf9WZddH9AcUmNKHI0/s1600/Snow.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow<br />Photo Credit: Jeff Martyka</td></tr>
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If you'd like to see a recap of our good times, check out Mike Wendland's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mUa76Pqph0#action=share" target="_blank">video</a> of the Roadtrek No Rules Winter Rally. It pretty much says it all.</div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-23594985500721323722015-01-09T20:30:00.001-05:002015-01-09T20:30:34.628-05:00The Best Snow Day Ever?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today, my daughter had a snow day. Again. It's all just part of the cosmic conspiracy to keep me from writing. However, contrary to what people think of me for hating snow days, it's not an entirely selfish reaction, it's just that I know how the day will go. While it's true that I won't get any writing done, it's also true that my daughter loves snow days only until 9:00am, when she wakes from a glorious sleep and delights in the fact that she got to sleep in, only to remember that the day ahead will be long and boring.<br />
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The roads were pretty bad today, and the wind chills were brutal, so she couldn't call her friends to go sledding, or to come over and build a snowman. Many of her friends live out in rural areas, and I was not willing to drive the slippery roads to pick them up, and their moms didn't want to bring them here either. So my little Bean, while refreshed from catching up on her sleep, spent most of the day on the couch, watching mind-numbingly stupid shows on TV. Bean is far too active a girl to enjoy a full day of TV.<br />
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Meanwhile, I shoveled the sidewalks and plowed the driveway. An hour later, I did it again. I did laundry, fixed the dryer, and checked emails. I tried to write, but Bean kept calling out to me from the couch. She made plans with friends, and would yell, "Mom, can I go to so-and-so's house at noon?" and I would holler back my permission. Ten minutes later, the plans would fall through. Bean made plans with friends all day, but nothing ever came of it. I gave up trying to write, hovered on the fringes of depression, and took a nap.<br />
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But then a funny thing happened on the way to my depression. I found a way to love snow days, even if only for a moment.<br />
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After my nap, I sat down in front of my computer and was scrolling through social media sites when Bean wandered into the kitchen and sat down next to me. She was complaining about how bored she was, when she suddenly exclaimed, "Mom! Look at that bird!"<br />
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Outside the window, where I keep a bird feeder filled with seeds, was a Blue Jay, one brilliant bird among the many nuthatches and sparrows. Then Bean shouted and said "Look, there's <i>three more</i>!"<br />
She asked what kind of bird they are, and suddenly I found myself in my element, teaching her about Blue Jays.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZm-FCTZ3qjIy5FDGiH35Tf4UP1D71y_1zIfU51xrMgkFeLkQCCFL3X71GcPxDEEMK-A_wf729bhdWeeroMq7CQOCu53cEN_c6PGasXHRMMa8p8TDDbHozCqgh4SH-w_Hxgc6tvG6wDtA/s1600/Male+Blue+Jay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZm-FCTZ3qjIy5FDGiH35Tf4UP1D71y_1zIfU51xrMgkFeLkQCCFL3X71GcPxDEEMK-A_wf729bhdWeeroMq7CQOCu53cEN_c6PGasXHRMMa8p8TDDbHozCqgh4SH-w_Hxgc6tvG6wDtA/s1600/Male+Blue+Jay.jpg" height="268" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Images</td></tr>
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Bean moved closer to me, and I pointed out the coloring of their feathers. She asked how to tell the difference between males and females. Blue Jays do not exhibit differences among males and females by their markings. Instead, you must observe their behavior. I told Bean to watch each bird, and tell me what they are doing. One bird would land, and the other three would follow. The same bird would call out, imitating a hawk, and the other three would call out too. When the one bird flew off, the other three followed.<br />
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The bird initiating the behaviors is the female, while the males imitate her, trying to impress her. Mating season starts soon!<br />
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Blue Jays are a close-knit family unit. Mates are monogamous, and males are fairly involved with nest-building and rearing young, though the female has the final say in all matters. (Maybe <i>that's</i> why Bean is drawn to them!) They are very social birds, and will warn other species of birds of danger. Blue Jays are also highly intelligent, and can be a bit aggressive at the bird feeder. Bean was enthralled by them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry about the quality, pictures taken through<br />windows are never good!</td></tr>
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Then the best thing of all happened; a Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker made an appearance! It swooped in, ate from the feeder, then flew off to land on the trunk of a nearby tree and started pecking at it. Bean and I laughed as the Sapsucker backed down the tree trunk, and in that moment, I was <i>so glad</i> she'd had a snow day. I would have missed this moment with her, sharing what I know and am passionate about and seeing her delight. I'm not trying to sound cliche here, but it was a beautiful thing.<br />
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I don't care about the rest of the day. I forgot about my frustration at interrupted schedules, I didn't dwell on the fact that I wasn't accomplishing much. For that moment, Bean wasn't bored, she was at my side, sharing something wondrous. She wasn't a teenager; she was my girl again.<br />
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The next time Bean has a snow day, which will most likely be next week, I might even suggest a snowy walk in the woods. Who knows? Maybe we'll see an owl, or a red-tailed hawk, or wild turkey. I can show her rabbit tracks, deer tracks, and coyote tracks. It's quite possible we could simply walk silently, and she might begin to understand the serenity I feel in the wintery woods.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJ6Op55KX4G6xG1wu0lIdmz8teEr5egeitYRLT1kgWBSBCqZqflWNsydamuKr_X9LhF7cF_IbwFQVrPtpvfYZaUHqMtOZeojdKq9A_6ExjyktuuEdNS5oHIfwktxP-WnC0BVN7xdDh0M/s1600/Winter+Walk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJ6Op55KX4G6xG1wu0lIdmz8teEr5egeitYRLT1kgWBSBCqZqflWNsydamuKr_X9LhF7cF_IbwFQVrPtpvfYZaUHqMtOZeojdKq9A_6ExjyktuuEdNS5oHIfwktxP-WnC0BVN7xdDh0M/s1600/Winter+Walk.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
Bean, and my other children, are a gift to me. I have always believed that, even when I don't show it. Today, Bean was my gift, my reminder to slow down, breathe, and take in the moment. If I can give that gift back to her, teach her to be interested in the natural world and to learn how to really observe what goes on around her, then I was a good mom, at least for a moment today. The rest of the day? Eh, maybe not so much, but I think Bean cherished our moment as much as I did. Then a friend called, and she left. Her warmth stayed with me.<br />
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I hope you had a simple moment of joy today, and every day. I will remember today as the best snow day ever, at least for a moment.</div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-76469925023369211282015-01-05T13:58:00.002-05:002015-01-09T20:33:37.040-05:00Kissing Fishes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In May 2014, I began my dream job, educating the public about nature. As a Nature Guide, I was given a fantastic week of training, then given the freedom to design the programs I would present. On being shown to my "office"(I use the term loosely, since it also doubled as a maintenance room and employee locker room, though I was told I was lucky to have a work space at all) I spent a day looking through the programs other Nature Guides had presented before me, and panic set in. I knew nothing! What was I thinking, believing I could educate the public in the natural sciences? So I did what I always do in stressful situations, which also happens to be a part of my job requirement; I went alone into the woods.<br />
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It was there, exploring the natural areas in which I would be working, that I found my balance again. I saw a deer with twin fawns, their leaps and bounds awkward while the doe gracefully glided over fallen trees. I knew she was teaching them by showing them. I saw a snake (eeeeek!) sunning itself on the boat launch, realizing I would have to get used to seeing snakes, and not hyperventilating. I saw turtles, birds I could not identify (add "birding" to the list of things I need to learn), and trees natural to the area; red pine, black cherry, cottonwood, hickory, elm, and countless ash trees on the ground, their majestic trunks felled by a tiny invasive bug. I began to count how many things I <i>did</i> know, things I learned by being in nature, not in a classroom. An idea began to form about how I would present my programs.<br />
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I returned to my office for additional research, and I realized my idea was not original. There is a wealth of information available about guided nature programs, written by people who feel exactly the same way I do.<br />
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As the summer schedule commenced, it quickly became obvious I was on the right track. I was initially amazed by the amount of science the kids in my groups knew. Some kids even added facts to my presentation, which delighted me. As the days continued, the realization hit me that I had learned all the same things in elementary school, many years ago. I had just forgotten it all until recent years when I started spending more time outdoors.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFpbxeq8-uLQAVY24VeCQMwLVDYIuX8kD4768qPr-i9YWOqTE29UcyKip8qsulu3vxhl82jsGYr8x3XjhtWgzoEkuAMNK5dEx2PHx9zwGMMxYcOBc4C-o1nVPErLkpo82reqVPnf5Kn8/s1600/Owl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFpbxeq8-uLQAVY24VeCQMwLVDYIuX8kD4768qPr-i9YWOqTE29UcyKip8qsulu3vxhl82jsGYr8x3XjhtWgzoEkuAMNK5dEx2PHx9zwGMMxYcOBc4C-o1nVPErLkpo82reqVPnf5Kn8/s1600/Owl.jpg" height="229" width="320" /></a>It is very important in my job to be knowledgeable. But so many of the kids I interact with are already pretty knowledgable, so I refined my focus to two challenges. The first is to present them with relevant information that goes a little beyond what they are taught in school. I was researching a program about owls, knowing these kids would know the basics; owls are raptors, owls can't move their eyes, owls can move their head 270Âş, owls glide through the air soundlessly, and they are nocturnal. They eat their prey, then regurgitate the parts they can't digest. Then I came across an interesting tidbit, checked a few other sources for validation, and made up a story to tell the kids while we walked in the woods at night, calling for owls.<br />
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The story is about a family a black crows who torment a sleeping owl all day. The owl is their predator, so they bully the owl all day, diving through the air and pecking and screeching, disturbing the owl's sleep. I never knew that crows did this. Then one day, I was in my own back yard, splitting wood, when a commotion caught my eye. I looked up, and sure enough, an owl was swooping through the air above me with a flock of crows in hot pursuit, pecking at him while he sought refuge in a hollow tree. I was enthralled! Maybe I have seen this before, but I didn't know what exactly I was seeing. How thrilling it was to watch this phenomenon of nature and truly understand it.<br />
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Therein lies my biggest challenge as a Nature Guide. How do I find a way to help these kids remember what they learn? We all learned about the animals and the environment, the rocks, the trees. As we grew older, our interests became narrower, and at some point we forget everything else. I want to be a part of creating a generation of kids who don't forget nature. The challenge became one of <i>connecting</i> kids with nature, of creating a strong enough connection that they continue to seek time outdoors even as they grow into adults.<br />
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For me, seeing the crows chasing the owl created a connection. This is the kind of thing you can't plan, you can't incorporate it into an educational program. So I sought the help of experts, like <a href="http://www.p-e-a-c-e.net/" target="_blank">Michael Caduto</a> and <a href="http://www.sharingnature.com/index.php" target="_blank">Joseph Cornell</a>, and my favorite, <a href="http://www.coyotesguide.com/" target="_blank">Jon Young</a> and his book about Coyote Mentoring. These people are a few of the pioneers of connecting people with nature, and their books have helped me guide my programs toward a more enriching experience.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTJa76-rEKpzCmZ8BJF047tvbTDdsvfXilrtZd6gLaaEQEIHZE9JjzueiWuqPzOptOKBEou970fgyu6MnR1ENVrblrm6m5JGqqD-txi7-aCSyBr9tU1Iv6QNdOkRtN5O5hJNgdB3Wa8w/s1600/Fishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTJa76-rEKpzCmZ8BJF047tvbTDdsvfXilrtZd6gLaaEQEIHZE9JjzueiWuqPzOptOKBEou970fgyu6MnR1ENVrblrm6m5JGqqD-txi7-aCSyBr9tU1Iv6QNdOkRtN5O5hJNgdB3Wa8w/s1600/Fishing.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a>I had to learn how to use a child's natural curiosity with whatever was at hand. On one particularly beautiful Saturday morning, I took a group of kids fishing. Most were squeamish about baiting the hook, or touching their catch. Then one young girl caught a nice Bluegill, and before throwing it back, she kissed it. The other kids squealed, but I threw some enthusiasm into the situation and explained that real fishermen kiss their fish before they throw it back. I then told a story about an old man who would kiss a small fish, then throw it back in the hope that when the fish got bigger, he would catch it again and eat it. The kiss was a sign of respect for the nourishment the fish would someday provide. Pretty soon I had 30 kids begging to kiss a fish.<br />
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It was a nice segue into a discussion of food chains, which was unplanned but beneficial. More importantly, the kids connected to the fish, and understood the role it plays. They kissed a fish!<br />
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My job is awesome. I learn more from it than I teach, and together with a group of kids, teenagers, even adults, we explore and discover and connect with our natural world. If those experiences stay with them as they have stayed with me, more people will care about life, balance, and all living things. In even the smallest of ways, I did a good thing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jYnKhIiysoqbylyxyOKyL17thgNX5BbHU-IyWZQG4PTyMVYRudyu3GXUXM7XFFbOqxeZSl8qiXS6KEwTtnC39UuFegMzV2bKfxM0-r_TcRTGBODPZBNTJKKERuA1K98cjh57t-1BnS0/s1600/WInter2005_Snow+Fleas_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jYnKhIiysoqbylyxyOKyL17thgNX5BbHU-IyWZQG4PTyMVYRudyu3GXUXM7XFFbOqxeZSl8qiXS6KEwTtnC39UuFegMzV2bKfxM0-r_TcRTGBODPZBNTJKKERuA1K98cjh57t-1BnS0/s1600/WInter2005_Snow+Fleas_1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.christmascrostics.com/Snow_Fleas.html</td></tr>
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Now that winter is firmly upon us and I am not leading groups of people through the woods, I am spending my time researching even more information and finding fun new ways to present programs. If you are a parent, or an aunt or uncle, grandparent, here's a fun winter fact: If you see the kids eating snow, fill a glass with the snow and bring it inside to melt. If there are tiny black dots in the melted snow, tell the kids they've been eating <a href="http://dnr.wi.gov/eek/critter/insect/snowflea.htm" target="_blank">snow fleas</a>, which are a good source of protein! (Then tell them to stop eating snow!)<br />
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Happy winter, happy exploring, and try to get outside today!<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-15597225234913069222014-10-29T10:51:00.000-04:002014-10-29T10:51:37.228-04:00When Decisions Go To The Dogs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been reading several blogs, with lively commentary, regarding the definition of Adventure. Some say adventure is doing things you've never done before, others say the purest form of adventure involves giving up a "normal" life to hike across New Zealand or kayak the Nile or some other such extreme endeavor. True adventurists scoff at guided tours and companies that capitalize on the human spirit by promising adventure while doing all the hard stuff for you.<br />
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I don't fit neatly into any of those categories. Most of my adventures come about accidentally, and almost all of them involve my friend Debbie, who is not an adventurer at all.<br />
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Every year in October, Debbie and I go camping together. At this point I can't even remember how this tradition started, but in the beginning I tried to ignite a passion for outdoor adventure in Debbie. She gave it the old college try, but our annual trip has evolved into a few days of Debbie reading by the campfire and me restlessly prowling around the campsite. Debbie knows how to relax and unwind; I do not.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvPipHLAtKmafHjOrnszsi9WmzxifwklJ-l5tUoqlEyx7zlVpAJbYQOPDiEU70QOlaoJu_R2DPGJlHWslUOH_iurrl2_SumvOYaEZlgrG04-AZbupM-QHsVxdC_iTe8VF2oA4cTStaAk/s1600/DSCN2967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvPipHLAtKmafHjOrnszsi9WmzxifwklJ-l5tUoqlEyx7zlVpAJbYQOPDiEU70QOlaoJu_R2DPGJlHWslUOH_iurrl2_SumvOYaEZlgrG04-AZbupM-QHsVxdC_iTe8VF2oA4cTStaAk/s1600/DSCN2967.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>This year I told her we would be camping in Petosky, Michigan, because Petosky is synonymous with shopping, restaurants, and luxury hotels. I figured if she equated camping with Petosky, she would be more likely to enjoy the experience. But camping is camping, and the Petosky State Park is a world away from the posh downtown area. Throw in four straight days of torrential rain, and we had ourselves a true outdoor camping experience. Sorry, Debbie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjfyRN5iw9jaFfnfhldL0BBSX7bcExq3p2E4Z1koEDFH6PlSxv2G77jpvaS-PBe0_HzZg5d-zV-M_vcluFZXVcZx-LQBZNoH5UKrzPAuvofGlUgZPvX5RODxTgO8WxPx7B3XiIRIk3rk/s1600/DSCN2970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjfyRN5iw9jaFfnfhldL0BBSX7bcExq3p2E4Z1koEDFH6PlSxv2G77jpvaS-PBe0_HzZg5d-zV-M_vcluFZXVcZx-LQBZNoH5UKrzPAuvofGlUgZPvX5RODxTgO8WxPx7B3XiIRIk3rk/s1600/DSCN2970.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>By the third day, I was very restless, wanting to explore and hike and find myself immersed in nature. Debbie and I had walked 25 feet away from our campsite to look for Petosky Stones on the beach. But I found that foray into nature boring, so I left Debbie to go walk the dogs. <br />
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Because dogs are domesticated animals, they generally are not as adaptable as wild animals. In other words, dogs are creatures of habit, and my big dog, Rooney, was having difficulty in this new environment with his digestive system. To put it bluntly, he hadn't pooped. In three days. I was a little concerned.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0yVVuciVxNZ8eKY5QwylIznFvn5KwMYeQyF3ETn81wmtLQMOvGiX06zqe3ZV1KKdcW4n14RRUC-pgleVG0oo_0kOZImbIcpSB4-bEtzamItfNUrrtx0g1Qdu2zQSDgHlgcQB5U4nQHM/s1600/DSCN2949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0yVVuciVxNZ8eKY5QwylIznFvn5KwMYeQyF3ETn81wmtLQMOvGiX06zqe3ZV1KKdcW4n14RRUC-pgleVG0oo_0kOZImbIcpSB4-bEtzamItfNUrrtx0g1Qdu2zQSDgHlgcQB5U4nQHM/s1600/DSCN2949.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Normally, when I take Rooney camping (which I do often), on our first morning in a new place I will walk Rooney until he picks a spot he likes to take care of business. Every day for the remainder of the trip Rooney will go to that one spot each morning for his daily constitutional. Even though there was a nice wide trail right behind our Petosky campsite, a 2 mile jaunt with plenty of weeds and underbrush, Rooney hadn't taken advantage of this perfect spot. So after fifteen minutes of staring at the waters of Lake Michigan looking for that one special stone, I announced to Debbie that I was going to walk the dogs down the trail again, in the hopes that Rooney would find relief there. I said to Debbie,<br />
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"I will be back in about 15 minutes." Famous last words for someone who has a tendency to get lost in the woods.<br />
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As I walked the dogs down the familiar trail, Rooney pulled off on a side trail. I thought maybe I should let him take the lead to find his spot where he was comfortable. I left the decision of the direction of our hike to Rooney, thinking that we were in Petosky State Park; we couldn't possibly get lost.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSfDQYXkjQX1SJ302HDeu2o1yvq8OUN00ZUfVIsCrWZDGKikGjW90b3_VKCl8lk9A-hbPlEOdvt7EggUMuiK8-YbiNDLrJuXCy1yYknVW17d3kGh3Eh6NZeVSO5m4wPVDoGUjgTrCy4Q/s1600/DSCN2954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSfDQYXkjQX1SJ302HDeu2o1yvq8OUN00ZUfVIsCrWZDGKikGjW90b3_VKCl8lk9A-hbPlEOdvt7EggUMuiK8-YbiNDLrJuXCy1yYknVW17d3kGh3Eh6NZeVSO5m4wPVDoGUjgTrCy4Q/s1600/DSCN2954.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>We crossed the road that leads into the campground. On the other side, the Yellow trail began and Rooney pulled ahead. Had it not been such a pretty trail, perhaps I would have paid closer attention to the trail markings. But at the first juncture I simply followed Rooney, and it wasn't until much later that I realized the yellow marker was in the shape of a diamond. A DIAMOND. For you non-hikers out there, that means the highest level of difficulty.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_QS08X1nSPm9eQG-9g85fN-8kWvLTvhwUL1qn3rxRFFcbakiA5xIG9KkIqP5zehMYisvDJo9PUIcwDnbH1dXqQqKQD17xrbDbKoICJxyXC2_3gPL3b3bR-2iKWTJ20Ofaf1cpH2Xi1Kg/s1600/DSCN2962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_QS08X1nSPm9eQG-9g85fN-8kWvLTvhwUL1qn3rxRFFcbakiA5xIG9KkIqP5zehMYisvDJo9PUIcwDnbH1dXqQqKQD17xrbDbKoICJxyXC2_3gPL3b3bR-2iKWTJ20Ofaf1cpH2Xi1Kg/s1600/DSCN2962.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
We climbed a very steep hill. We went down another steep hill. Then we plodded up a steeper hill, with the rain turning the loose soil to mud and the wet trees I had to use to pull myself up the hill were slippery to grasp. I won't tell you that I slid back down a few times on my knees, because in my mind that didn't happen. The dogs and I labored up and struggled down. Finally, we reached a high ridge and I thought the trail had to be almost back to the campground. But then, in a break through the trees, I saw something that made my heart drop into my stomach.<br />
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Earlier in the day, Debbie had wanted to visit a French antiques shop in Petosky. We drove 2 miles down the State Park road, and another 5 miles on the highway to get to this shop. Across the street was a four-story brick building that had been converted into a pub. From the top of the ridge I was now standing on, I was looking <i>down</i> on the roof of the four-story pub. I was 7 miles from my campsite!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbT9FwY-dQWLvoXBEPJrXEFIRlY5XJCmhcoC5Ek71qF1jXOmxMzlHpiTPhyphenhyphenEmOucTw_Or2bKiLjZyeMu-0dg400P1FWhG-UAFimZryT-zu4WrVp2ez2Fhm5COnW1MkMbMWuYND_IW4oaE/s1600/DSCN2963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbT9FwY-dQWLvoXBEPJrXEFIRlY5XJCmhcoC5Ek71qF1jXOmxMzlHpiTPhyphenhyphenEmOucTw_Or2bKiLjZyeMu-0dg400P1FWhG-UAFimZryT-zu4WrVp2ez2Fhm5COnW1MkMbMWuYND_IW4oaE/s1600/DSCN2963.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>I hadn't planned on this hike. I had no water, no food, and no cell phone (not that it would have worked in the deep woods anyway). I didn't even have a camera to capture the amazing beauty around me. I debated about whether to turn back and re-trace my steps, or keep going. Because the demon hills I was traversing were on a more direct route to the campground than the road, I decided to keep going ahead thinking it would be the shorter way to go. We forged on, down and up, sideways, upside down once, looking for any sign of the end of this trail from hell. After a particularly slippery slide down one ridge, I looked up to see a trail marker pointing to the easy yellow trail, and the campground. I almost wept with relief.<br />
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We still had another mile to go to connect back to the original trail. As the dogs and I plodded down the wide flat trail, thirsty and tired and soaking wet, I was anxious to get back and let Debbie know we were ok. She must be worried sick! I had no idea what time it was, or how long we had been gone, but it was much longer than the fifteen minutes I had told her. I hoped she hadn't informed the ranger we were missing. Oh geez, what if they were out searching for us? Debbie must be frantic!<br />
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We literally ran the last 1/4 mile, I was so worried. As we burst into the campsite, Debbie looked up from her chair and the book she was reading, cozy with a blanket, sitting by the fire that was still burning despite the rain because I had set an awning up over it, a glass of wine at her side, and she said,<br />
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"Oh. Did you go out again? I thought you were napping."<br />
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<i>What</i>? We were missing for three hours and she didn't even <i>know</i>? She thought I was <i>napping</i>?<br />
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With a certain amount of indignation, I told Debbie what had happened. I also pointed out that if I were ever to get lost for real I guess I couldn't count on her to raise the calvary. I sat in my chair to pout, drinking a gallon of water, when Rooney stood up, walked a few steps from the fire, and pooped in the campsite. He found his spot.<br />
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It was a mini adventure, but an adventure nonetheless. The terrain was difficult, I wasn't sure where I was, and no one else knew where I was either. After consulting the trail map later, I discovered that I had only hiked about 3 miles total, not the 14 miles that it felt like, but with the level of difficulty I had a pretty good hike. I saw beautiful scenery deep in the woods, and it was all good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSTPEoIvLQPXz_SY3403en_26I8yxXMvqt4Q-88YHdX8HQ0TSxgeH_Jd8GOXoELoS4kJewk_zqU9POILjwJqLOWqKMIOhCatTIdYOtQ3G_u7vjJCZTrmYQcP4eL91lCPNmicMAXWr3uZ0/s1600/DSCN2955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSTPEoIvLQPXz_SY3403en_26I8yxXMvqt4Q-88YHdX8HQ0TSxgeH_Jd8GOXoELoS4kJewk_zqU9POILjwJqLOWqKMIOhCatTIdYOtQ3G_u7vjJCZTrmYQcP4eL91lCPNmicMAXWr3uZ0/s1600/DSCN2955.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>I don't seek adventure. It usually finds me when I am least prepared for it. Spending as much time as I do outdoors, it is bound to happen. When I leave decisions to the dogs, it is a given that an adventure awaits. But I like it that way. Sometimes when I plan an adventure, it falls short of the vision I had in my mind, but when adventure happens accidentally, I have a story to tell and fond memories to keep. Maybe that's the true spirit of adventure, just going out and seeing what happens.<br />
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The dogs were exhausted that night and slept deeply, as did I. As for Debbie, she suffered a restless night of tossing and turning, feeling deep guilt over my struggles while she sat cozy by the fire, not noticing I was missing. At least that's the way the story goes when I tell it.<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-62613326717003502602014-03-24T11:03:00.000-04:002014-03-24T11:03:01.493-04:00The Top 10 Things I've Learned About Camping<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since I started tent camping 25 years ago, and added camping in the tin can 10 years later, I've learned a lot about exploring outside and camping. Some of these lessons will help readers who are new to camping or getting outside, and experienced adventurers will most likely be able to identify. At least I hope they will, otherwise I am the most incompetent outdoor adventurer ever! (Which actually might be true).<br />
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<i><span style="color: blue;">1. Never leave your Mackinac Island Fudge on the picnic table overnight.</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHL1-T8u3tdj7-gJBNjS8gSdax4W0b-nfB_elYhNwRT-7_FWXz2vIJsIZSL9MJVyrzHydjI2kbMxqgm-YbfDoTXwoUOLsghJPa_TcxscJA8MeE1ihopZggyj9WeEJCfu-A9nP9pk5OExY/s1600/Food+Left+Out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHL1-T8u3tdj7-gJBNjS8gSdax4W0b-nfB_elYhNwRT-7_FWXz2vIJsIZSL9MJVyrzHydjI2kbMxqgm-YbfDoTXwoUOLsghJPa_TcxscJA8MeE1ihopZggyj9WeEJCfu-A9nP9pk5OExY/s1600/Food+Left+Out.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chip discovers 5-Star Dining</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0x8_m4Yz1GFBj7__F66gh_0FNts_XBV8kFg6V9eWGRU0AZqw_Q9FugW1EHxpTb93b8ZwXL95ca8hSD5PBBDgvCXjTpQbWMrTwFHrHhfhfpCOE7Zyt6ddOvusBtjPnZ6yvK5RMj1PRyek/s1600/Rocky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0x8_m4Yz1GFBj7__F66gh_0FNts_XBV8kFg6V9eWGRU0AZqw_Q9FugW1EHxpTb93b8ZwXL95ca8hSD5PBBDgvCXjTpQbWMrTwFHrHhfhfpCOE7Zyt6ddOvusBtjPnZ6yvK5RMj1PRyek/s1600/Rocky.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky</td></tr>
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This one is more important than you'd think. Leaving fudge, or any other food, out overnight is an open call to all the creatures of the woods. I only needed to spend one night in a tent listening to Rocky the Raccoon munching on my fudge, then rolling on his back with indigestion to learn the perils of leaving food out. This same rule holds true for coolers. Raccoons, bear, chipmunks, and other wild animals are rather industrious. Put your food in the car or camper, folks, and this includes the dog's food. Lets keep wild animals wild, and not habituated to people; that's when animals become dangerous.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">2. Never stake your tent at the bottom of a hill.</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLVD68s-nGDOonqbhwGJSKFQa1O5lOha9xNCGj2gEPGCC4T-Psp1Sd__prlAZEFp9bK2vtAyOwioQlNwgvwkGRaHGIjkTTOl_cGsx3u7rCynqhIZ8RhcnBrvnlANcWhNmRN0zeGq3Kuw/s1600/Tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLVD68s-nGDOonqbhwGJSKFQa1O5lOha9xNCGj2gEPGCC4T-Psp1Sd__prlAZEFp9bK2vtAyOwioQlNwgvwkGRaHGIjkTTOl_cGsx3u7rCynqhIZ8RhcnBrvnlANcWhNmRN0zeGq3Kuw/s1600/Tent.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was all fun and games until it rained</td></tr>
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A newbie mistake, I was scouting out a campsite on a windy day, and discovered the hill behind me blocked the wind, making it easier to set up and keep the tent warmer. But guess what windy days usually lead to? Rainy nights. All that water running down the hill has to go somewhere, and most likely it will all go into your tent. If I wanted a houseboat, I would have bought a houseboat. Put your tent in an open, high, flat area, away from trees and hills.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">3. Always carry a walking stick while hiking.</span></i></h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCjJJWKjYOLVibpeyJNAjYNa_r9irhOFJRTjRaumAI-DBJ1C77Do14hL-eFQD7F9FubbI-8pl7liNEnCYSwSmaVXuFMTqdQprYx6fiQieUpU7uImwJKIQNHcv1lJFGvwQ7NXNnC-IBus/s1600/Walking+Stick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCjJJWKjYOLVibpeyJNAjYNa_r9irhOFJRTjRaumAI-DBJ1C77Do14hL-eFQD7F9FubbI-8pl7liNEnCYSwSmaVXuFMTqdQprYx6fiQieUpU7uImwJKIQNHcv1lJFGvwQ7NXNnC-IBus/s1600/Walking+Stick.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a>I visited Drummond Island once for a week, snowshoeing and hiking during a mild winter. I fell in love with the island and its people, so while there I bought a hand-made walking stick from a local merchant, more for sentimental value than anything else. However, that stick has been a lifesaver on a few occasions. A clumsy hiker like me finds it very handy to complete my hike even after I've sprained my ankle or twisted my knee. It also works as a snake beater.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">4. Never trust someone who says "Trust me".</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKHFYMCqiIWNN5k0vKjXEoGvhCOQ4QEYjFAFxQ-S1hoFjB0o6JtsUBiHczktHK9e7JUraSDV3FrNAYdZ9lv5SGBJ-IyUdW7Sx3pv6CwEsXB36C3hPJt8pSki4ofmu2TfR8_IrpJAcFcc/s1600/Rabbit+Patch+Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKHFYMCqiIWNN5k0vKjXEoGvhCOQ4QEYjFAFxQ-S1hoFjB0o6JtsUBiHczktHK9e7JUraSDV3FrNAYdZ9lv5SGBJ-IyUdW7Sx3pv6CwEsXB36C3hPJt8pSki4ofmu2TfR8_IrpJAcFcc/s1600/Rabbit+Patch+Road.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Is this CO 412? or CO 423? Didn't we already pass that fern?"</td></tr>
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My friend Debbie will tell you that all of my reassurances that I know what I am doing are of little comfort when you've been lost for eleven hours on two-track after two-track that all look exactly alike. The experienced outdoor people recognize that in the wilderness, things change but look the same. Never assume you know where you are going or what lies ahead. Be prepared, and rely on your own skills to get out of a perilous situation, even if the only skill you have is to carry an emergency beacon so trained rescue personnel can find you. Been there, done that.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">5. Always look up. TRUST ME.</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2TdmMGWUxZU8e5hTVOveMgDoDaWTEUyKbLCRAKkBy05jQhUqbIZ59j8Ry97dklGMu4jLtebxX-yfMq9NEQ0Xln5lFAiGn9CavCcakTkNnJuIGt-p3vn_61JaTCS1oSKlje6MAdKYK0U/s1600/Bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2TdmMGWUxZU8e5hTVOveMgDoDaWTEUyKbLCRAKkBy05jQhUqbIZ59j8Ry97dklGMu4jLtebxX-yfMq9NEQ0Xln5lFAiGn9CavCcakTkNnJuIGt-p3vn_61JaTCS1oSKlje6MAdKYK0U/s1600/Bear.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"HELLO!"</i></td></tr>
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I can't stress this enough; educate yourself about wildlife and their habits prior to exploring the wilderness. When it comes to the elusive black bear, especially in Michigan, they are likely to avoid human contact if you follow the rules, therefore you likely will never see one. However, when hiking, kayaking, climbing, or just sitting by the campfire, don't forget to look <i>up</i>. Do NOT carry fruit and berries in your backpack, unless in sealed containers. You might end up with a close encounter you are not prepared for. Learn how to avoid wildlife. A bear might look cute and friendly, but he would tear you apart for an apple.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">6. Always unplug your electrical cord before driving away.</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC0hK2uGAFhvrrD7faltQATHxFtVYECI6W4NtWAwV39FQ0norKuFEGWrlnXRK-n6iy3Zc_vqVnNV4GDWlnqJKrZCEb8xFxLbE8NYdO_UIJWRZPFkTRy2LKrpnxi08w9kjmvlFoERO6rms/s1600/Airstream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC0hK2uGAFhvrrD7faltQATHxFtVYECI6W4NtWAwV39FQ0norKuFEGWrlnXRK-n6iy3Zc_vqVnNV4GDWlnqJKrZCEb8xFxLbE8NYdO_UIJWRZPFkTRy2LKrpnxi08w9kjmvlFoERO6rms/s1600/Airstream.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that a <i>raccoon</i> hanging out of that camper?</td></tr>
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This may seem like a no-brainer, but for a camper new to RVing and in a hurry to leave, you'd be surprised how many things you can forget to do before you pull out. The good news is, you will only make that mistake once. Seriously, you wouldn't believe how much damage can occur when you drive off with your electrical cord still plugged in and locked to your camper. Always remember, all those people waving at you on the highway are not being friendly; they are trying to tell you something. Check windows, doors, steps, hook-ups, and awnings before you leave. The same goes for tent campers. Those straps are called <b>tie-downs</b>. Make sure the kayak on top of your car is, in fact, tied down.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">7. The macho men in the campground are there for a reason.</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8tx8ALbR-zg44eq5CGsYUoAPnuqJI6w6G4HGBLJvdIpokfwWvcBuszZDuJb37mElaU2p1ERRh1j8CB9Htd9xzADrCyujxiliAV5oC675vxOf9OgDhFkTipA6VP4Pvs0qbdmRboyo9C0/s1600/Propane+Leak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8tx8ALbR-zg44eq5CGsYUoAPnuqJI6w6G4HGBLJvdIpokfwWvcBuszZDuJb37mElaU2p1ERRh1j8CB9Htd9xzADrCyujxiliAV5oC675vxOf9OgDhFkTipA6VP4Pvs0qbdmRboyo9C0/s1600/Propane+Leak.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No carbon monoxide poisoning for me!</td></tr>
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I used to get offended by the men who would rush to my aid every time I backed my trailer into a site, but I have gotten over it. Those same men have, at times, kept me from hitting a tree, changed a tire on my tin can, fixed my propane leak, and found the tiny fuse that fell out of my battery. Macho men in campgrounds are wonderful. <br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">8. Always follow the rules.</span></i></h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxvkI-RhP8PKzxML8IMRKmTdjaIyWVOgJ72XORZed6shz9HnMXlUmJ9ktTVGOOqEpLonEqHt5pg-bCjV58lpH9-tZUwuj14jIkbKfQ2Euwbecs2255XBGTSBuFVA2Z4Sux8cDHfRLtZM/s1600/Off+Trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxvkI-RhP8PKzxML8IMRKmTdjaIyWVOgJ72XORZed6shz9HnMXlUmJ9ktTVGOOqEpLonEqHt5pg-bCjV58lpH9-tZUwuj14jIkbKfQ2Euwbecs2255XBGTSBuFVA2Z4Sux8cDHfRLtZM/s1600/Off+Trail.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a>How many times have I been hiking a trail and seen something very<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pRoAHSrpBhMkeBg1-iQZanafoqexUEMkoof_157jjPnZu4_IY-00_FZdLfbbdEnR3kcsGH5mFYrGwI6BtavLK7J4s_iqfpIlry9zwcVN5e4JIJSCFG7oKGtXTTsEqY7Ib3XVyE72U-M/s1600/Sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pRoAHSrpBhMkeBg1-iQZanafoqexUEMkoof_157jjPnZu4_IY-00_FZdLfbbdEnR3kcsGH5mFYrGwI6BtavLK7J4s_iqfpIlry9zwcVN5e4JIJSCFG7oKGtXTTsEqY7Ib3XVyE72U-M/s1600/Sign.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a> intriguing off the trail? Yet every trail head has a sign posted, "Please Stay on the Trail." This is a good idea for many reasons, but the most important reason is the environment. Michigan's DNR and DEQ have worked very hard to preserve the delicate balance of nature for all of us to enjoy. You might think one person walking off trail would be no big deal, yet you'd be wrong. Follow all posted rules in the woods, wilderness, and waters. They really are for your protection, and the protection of the beauty all around you.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">9. Always keep your dog on a short leash.</span></i></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35rCQ78UEvIvXDffo9sxM7_7-ydJEoA_hH-lKKpwj5v84Or3m_rbaMudBcbiMuzQqapuihiBRj1IJfiq2etIbnEv-rsIypWV7bycCCUx-etn2SpO_654-7dZUIvHcqxq5KBK_P6ewBRE/s1600/Rooney+on+Fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35rCQ78UEvIvXDffo9sxM7_7-ydJEoA_hH-lKKpwj5v84Or3m_rbaMudBcbiMuzQqapuihiBRj1IJfiq2etIbnEv-rsIypWV7bycCCUx-etn2SpO_654-7dZUIvHcqxq5KBK_P6ewBRE/s1600/Rooney+on+Fire.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used to have a furry tail.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTRe021fk3p0uM45XOYaR2D3x07AZxKQOldwdFg3a73yx9Zga-xJq20CLqMnByDmDkuwoPWx-mA4VOyJrTIQiFcZrGEssj4ymfZjF5uq4gh60dsaoyHu6DOJ_xcHvnk8D7A9bP_8XBFA/s1600/Walking+Rooney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTRe021fk3p0uM45XOYaR2D3x07AZxKQOldwdFg3a73yx9Zga-xJq20CLqMnByDmDkuwoPWx-mA4VOyJrTIQiFcZrGEssj4ymfZjF5uq4gh60dsaoyHu6DOJ_xcHvnk8D7A9bP_8XBFA/s1600/Walking+Rooney.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a>There is a narrow, dirt trail that follows a high ridge line along the Big Sable River at Ludington State Park. When camping there, I walk my Newfoundland, Rooney, every morning along this trail, with the river running below a steep embankment. I always keep him on a retractable leash and let the leash out 12 feet or so while he runs and does his thing. After several days of walking that trail, one morning without warning Rooney took off down the steep hill for the river. After I ended up wrapped around a tree about halfway down, still clinging to Rooney's leash, a macho man once again came to my rescue, pulling me and my dog back up to the trail. Even if you have a well-behaved dog, the leash rule is important, because someone else might <i>not</i> have a well behaved dog (like me), and there <i>are</i> wild animals out there. Keep your furry friend close by your side, unless you are sitting by the campfire. Rooney has caught his tail on fire <i>3 times</i> while sitting at my side. It took us awhile, but lesson learned.<br />
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<i><span style="color: blue;">10. Carry duct tape.</span></i></h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAS3Wgl4UvZn23ddh6ZliEmwn79z-13auFWyn4Jyfs8dSc_TnY1QeDH5UxDQvDoB_M2W2pWgfpv7GZuY1g3oPWi-Rijq-yDkKy3T_JkpCjwoexPLP4xQ6I8kO2YS3Punr2OVfd2avm9y4/s1600/Duct+Tape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAS3Wgl4UvZn23ddh6ZliEmwn79z-13auFWyn4Jyfs8dSc_TnY1QeDH5UxDQvDoB_M2W2pWgfpv7GZuY1g3oPWi-Rijq-yDkKy3T_JkpCjwoexPLP4xQ6I8kO2YS3Punr2OVfd2avm9y4/s1600/Duct+Tape.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Even camping in a well-populated campground can bring unexpected challenges. Be prepared for just about everything you can imagine going wrong, and a few things you haven't thought of yet, though eventually you will. Weather, drunk campers, animals, equipment failure, and an aging, forgetful mind can lead to all kinds of potential disasters. When the disasters come, make sure you've brought your sense of humor and an extra bottle of water along, but most importantly, always carry duct tape. A fresh bottle of water and a full roll of duct tape can solve 99% of your problems while camping and enjoying the outdoors. Hole in your boot? Duct tape. Sudden downpour? Secure a natural shelter with duct tape. Broken fishing pole? Duct tape. Leaky tent? Duct tape. Loose wire on your camper? You know what to do. <br />
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I am sure as time goes on, I will discover many more tips for surviving outside. But these are the top things I've learned so far. Do you have anything to add? I would love to hear your stories and advice!<br />
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Happy Spring everybody, and Go Outside!</div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-50169651078000005912014-03-23T14:55:00.001-04:002014-03-23T14:55:30.325-04:00Rifle River Recreation Area: You Always Remember Your First Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometime soon, when this long winter is finally over and the first week of sunshine and warmer weather is predicted, I will just up and leave my home. With a tin can hitched to my Yukon and my dog at my side, I will drive north to Rifle River Recreation Area to live for a few days in my beloved woods.<br />
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I haven't been to Rifle River since 1998, but I have wanted to return there since my inaugural trip with the tin can. After years of tent camping, I was ready for something a little more comfortable, but still looked with disdain at the RVers who "pretended" to camp while living in the lap of luxury. I wanted to sleep in a warm and dry bed, but was unwilling to let go of the simplicity of tent camping, so I bought a tin can.<br />
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The 1970 Airstream Landyacht is not nearly as fancy as its name suggests. Back then, it needed a lot of work, had no hook-ups, and some questionable upholstery. But it had a bed and a roof with only one leak. It was all I needed.<br />
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In late September 1998, after hours of instruction from my husband on how to back up a trailer, I hit the road for the first time pulling a trailer. Driving up the highway, with my dog hanging out the window, I was on cloud nine! I kept thinking <i>"I'm doing it! I'm pulling a camper and going all alone to live in the woods!"</i> Maybe that doesn't seem like much, but I had never camped alone before, never pulled anything attached to my truck, and never felt so free. I remember that later, my husband told me a truck driver he knew had seen me on the highway and remarked that I was pretty awesome to go alone like that. I felt so empowered!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.michigantrails.us<br />Photo Credit: Dave Case</td></tr>
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I chose Rifle River Recreation Area for that first trip because it wasn't too far away, but off the beaten path. Upon arriving, I was pleased that a few campers were there (I wasn't ready to be ALL alone) but they were spread out. Of course, as soon as I started backing the tin can onto my site, five guys in hunter's camo and orange hats materialized from nowhere and began shouting instructions to me. All they did was confuse me. I had my method, and though I was slow to back in, I wanted to do it by myself. I'm sure their intentions were good, but seriously, leave me be. <br />
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I hand cranked the trailer off the hitch, got her level, and hand cranked the stabilizers down. It was raining, and chilly. But once I had my site set up, I walked the dog, returned to the camper, and changed into dry clothes. Sitting in the camper that first night, listening to the rain <i>ting!</i> on the tin can, with a hot cup of soup and a lantern to light the pages of my book, I realized that maybe RV camping wasn't such a bad thing. I was pretty cozy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.michigantrails.us<br />Photo Credit: Dave Case</td></tr>
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The next day dawned cold but sunny, and I did some exploring. Rifle River is a gem, with over 4000 acres of exploring, ten lakes, countless streams, and 14 miles of trails. It plays host to fishermen, boaters, kayakers, hikers, bikers, and swimmers. A 3-story observation tower presents sweeping views of the area. Birders will keep busy with field guides and binoculars. There are highland hardwood and pine forests, grasslands, lowland forests, cedar swamp, bog, and marsh. There is also plenty of open water. Hunting and fishing are permitted. Rifle River Recreation Area has something for every lover of the Michigan outdoors, even offering modern camping and rustic sites. <br />
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Wildlife viewing at Rifle River includes deer, grouse, woodcock, duck, goose, and rabbit. In season, hunters are welcome. The park is also open to trapping for muskrat, beaver, and mink. Anglers come to the area for trout, as well as yellow perch, bluegill, rock bass, and northern pike. Permits are available at Park Headquarters.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFQfQn4kfrVJ04susQv8w-oUZCHvFAcGB04AxSu6NVOgyhALSvtsJ5VN4BSUoPAw2VDrifgQ5rIp5pjFEgo7ZzPWbsDPpbDuhZEFUNfOOF_W2uJFIzLf8yyRxAcqKtocYRs2sGQeiToQ/s1600/bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFQfQn4kfrVJ04susQv8w-oUZCHvFAcGB04AxSu6NVOgyhALSvtsJ5VN4BSUoPAw2VDrifgQ5rIp5pjFEgo7ZzPWbsDPpbDuhZEFUNfOOF_W2uJFIzLf8yyRxAcqKtocYRs2sGQeiToQ/s1600/bridge.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.michigantrails.us<br />Photo Credit: Dave Case</td></tr>
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Love waterfowl? Look for Trumpeter Swans and Loons, but not too close!<br />
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Rifle River is even open in the winter for cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, ice fishing, and snowmobiling. <br />
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I spent my weekend at Rifle River exploring streams and trails during the day, and relaxing by a fire at night. Late September is an excellent time to go; its not too cold yet, and there are not many campers. My first trip alone in the tin can brought to light a truth for me. I can go anywhere, do anything, and be outside learning from my experiences in nature. Even the coyotes fighting in the woods behind my tin can didn't bother me. I was safe and secure, and could listen to their howls and yips as part of the symphony of the night woods with joy, not fear.<br />
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Since that trip, I have revised my opinion of RVers. It doesn't matter if you are in a tent, or a Class A Motorcoach, or anything in between. Campers all have one thing in common; they love to be outside. Over the years I have added many updates and amenities to the tin can, and expanded my horizons by sometimes camping in State parks with hookups and showers, sometimes choosing State forests with an outhouse and shared water pump. I can go anywhere in the tin can, depending on my mood. <br />
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I am eager to return to the Rifle River Recreation area, the place where my tin can adventure began. It was the beginning of my journey as a part time wanderer, not to mention the place where I learned my first valuable lesson as an RVer. Make sure the windows are firmly latched <i>before</i> hitting the road! And I thought all the people waving at me on the highway were just being super friendly.<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-59286697928715619582014-03-06T14:20:00.001-05:002014-03-06T14:20:09.446-05:00Timing Is Everything: Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A long time ago, my husband told me that all of life's happiness is due to timing. When you do the right thing at the right time, good things happen. After 6 months of planning a winter trip in the Porcupine Mountains, in Michigan's western U.P., it turns out my timing was all wrong. Then again, my timing couldn't have been better.<br />
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This pretty much sums up the entire experience of snowshoeing through the Porkies and staying overnight in Yurts during the winter: Extremes. <br />
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<i><span style="color: blue;">It turns out, a winter Yurt only has two temperatures; hot and off.</span></i> </h3>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">Winter in the Porkies means you are either surrounded by dense forest, or in the middle of a vast emptiness.</span></i> </h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Q-GnTkOqKGRtJHNVGh677szPHkK7bNi9oSfbFIe-3y3Ni2BkVaB8e-YAFlmaMvhkF7F5-VBwr7ucPg28qycoZqECF1ty50Pb-oSTpAr5B5cIp6af_c5hOG0sw-7-_zkbjpwJ__TxSaM/s1600/DSC_4501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Q-GnTkOqKGRtJHNVGh677szPHkK7bNi9oSfbFIe-3y3Ni2BkVaB8e-YAFlmaMvhkF7F5-VBwr7ucPg28qycoZqECF1ty50Pb-oSTpAr5B5cIp6af_c5hOG0sw-7-_zkbjpwJ__TxSaM/s1600/DSC_4501.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><i><span style="color: blue;">The terrain is either up, or down. Snow is thigh deep and fluffy, while ice is flat and hard. A gale force wind blows all night, then the sunrise brings an eerie calm. Everything is extreme.</span></i></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18EKEu5R_4JwrewsL0NptAUjz8yJKnwYh3G830bs6dJZvwCxWKadgJqjy2j5gxnXGtq0PSVG5NrargyJDMoFWgT9I0ejQUv5SfrtEpBymaOgK6un18hzZ9U-95MsOxJ7MhE0Z4GWRUrE/s1600/DSC_4495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18EKEu5R_4JwrewsL0NptAUjz8yJKnwYh3G830bs6dJZvwCxWKadgJqjy2j5gxnXGtq0PSVG5NrargyJDMoFWgT9I0ejQUv5SfrtEpBymaOgK6un18hzZ9U-95MsOxJ7MhE0Z4GWRUrE/s1600/DSC_4495.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><br />
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Another extreme is the level of difficulty I experienced, though this is not true for everyone, including the two young couples I met who bounced over the trails in their snowshoes while I labored with each step. They carried everything they needed in packs that I know were heavy, but seemed not to burden them, while I huffed and puffed and fell down pulling my sled full of so many things I didn't need. Perhaps experience is still the greatest teacher, but youth is the greatest student.<br />
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Maybe I wouldn't have struggled so much had my timing been better, but several things were at play. A week before my scheduled trip, my dad had an accident which put him in the hospital where he received frustratingly substandard care. It quickly became obvious to my mom and me that we would be responsible for his care, not the hospital staff. Between making sure Dad was never left alone at the hospital, and running Mom to oncology appointments, and checking in on my 95 year old Grandmother, while trying to keep up with things at home and see my husband and daughter each day, I was exhausted. It was an emotional week as well, and by the time everyone convinced me to go ahead with my trip, which I was ready to cancel, I couldn't think straight or see straight. I was so worn out and tired.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTTie9SgVn7UOLyES93Txl-RZDnw1lia0rTOcI_Fml4fOsAAKbFAio8kJQ4eEhNr4kAfBTP2rf3zymHG3X4ZlXu81jcOJI05Had7TK4_bIvIA3W8UcogtnaY4pKNgmYXPEIYxunhrnkQ/s1600/IMG_0745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTTie9SgVn7UOLyES93Txl-RZDnw1lia0rTOcI_Fml4fOsAAKbFAio8kJQ4eEhNr4kAfBTP2rf3zymHG3X4ZlXu81jcOJI05Had7TK4_bIvIA3W8UcogtnaY4pKNgmYXPEIYxunhrnkQ/s1600/IMG_0745.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a>Then, the day I was scheduled to leave, we got an ice storm. I stayed up late the night before packing my sled and backpack, then started out the next morning. I made it 10 miles out of town on the highway before turning back. The roads were pure ice, and I just couldn't handle the drive on top of everything else. I came home upset, discouraged, and thinking that there were an awful lot of signs that this trip was not meant to be. My husband said to just wait one day, then try again. My dad begged me to go. My sister promised she would take care of things in my absence. So I tried again the next day.<br />
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The next morning, school was cancelled. So how do I leave my young daughter home alone all day? A friend called and invited her over. For every sign that said "Don't Go", a solution appeared. I left.<br />
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After 8 1/2 hours of driving on icy back roads because the highway was closed, I had made it to Gaylord, about 58 miles south of the Mackinac Bridge. In normal circumstances, I would have reached Gaylord in 3 1/2 hours, but there was nothing normal or even reasonable about that drive. I found a hotel and hunkered down for the night to wait out a blizzard the likes of which I have never experienced. My second day of driving wasn't any better, but I forged ahead and reached the Porcupine Mountains Headquarters with an hour of daylight left.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvm1zJO0V3xaH1SRnGqiManPMhvjZob2P-r2e2PV6mvqsrwBz83p3m7TkRtD4J5jRRdzsJDAqdUfHRV0qfbDl8cZORWYyWM5eaoJgqo7ewSDw1Sau4vqquZAWGWYysHPTRLp4HZuOwuI/s1600/DSC_4555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvm1zJO0V3xaH1SRnGqiManPMhvjZob2P-r2e2PV6mvqsrwBz83p3m7TkRtD4J5jRRdzsJDAqdUfHRV0qfbDl8cZORWYyWM5eaoJgqo7ewSDw1Sau4vqquZAWGWYysHPTRLp4HZuOwuI/s1600/DSC_4555.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7xBpTG2teljriUDAImN51e9Xi7XqvCL_U8nknJbWie6TW7H9ioREIeK0CqXd19t_ierSSWE4I1fFkixKSHvW0IcfBYyq_ZUg3RPk8PhQrru-gHshbEoKlRCZuQny-dFf7e99lwO1xm4/s1600/DSC_4544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7xBpTG2teljriUDAImN51e9Xi7XqvCL_U8nknJbWie6TW7H9ioREIeK0CqXd19t_ierSSWE4I1fFkixKSHvW0IcfBYyq_ZUg3RPk8PhQrru-gHshbEoKlRCZuQny-dFf7e99lwO1xm4/s1600/DSC_4544.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a>Once I had checked in with the Ranger and parked my vehicle at the trail head, all I really wanted to do was curl up in the back seat and sleep for a week. What was I thinking, believing I could handle this winter excursion? I gathered what little strength I had left and pulled it around me in a shroud, and set off on the groomed trail. In about an hour, it would be fully dark, and Bob Wild, Park Naturalist, was busy on the trail filling lanterns with oil and lighting them for the Saturday night lamplit ski. I took great comfort knowing he was close by, because I will admit to being uneasy about pulling my sled alone through the woods. Bob pointed out the ungroomed trail to the Yurt, which I would have missed, and I left the safety of Bob's domain to break a new path, alone, to the Yurt. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ema0QbIH6M3YjUDg_qSPmw0iLsiuKJck5YN-bLWp767u7ombgIeu-lnbsgUfS2D3VtAt02eMMwDW-TpIqr9wIPH6gLKPUqiQEIY0jt4i3QnB7wW0lpI77ztdvpPM7G0xTm-KtooJV5g/s1600/DSC_4491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ema0QbIH6M3YjUDg_qSPmw0iLsiuKJck5YN-bLWp767u7ombgIeu-lnbsgUfS2D3VtAt02eMMwDW-TpIqr9wIPH6gLKPUqiQEIY0jt4i3QnB7wW0lpI77ztdvpPM7G0xTm-KtooJV5g/s1600/DSC_4491.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a><br />
It was very cold. I was dressed properly and working hard to pull the sled and navigate the deep snow in my snowshoes, so I stayed warm, but my fingers and toes were cold. It didn't take long to reach the Yurt, and God bless the previous occupants who had left me plenty of split wood for the stove. Inside, I made fire my first priority, as it was just as cold inside the Yurt as it was outside, 8 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. Without removing any layers of winter wear, I unpacked my sled and pack, gathered snow to melt on the stove for water, then stoked the fire up and left to join the lamplit ski tour.<br />
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It was dark inside the Yurt, and really dark outside the Yurt. Again asking myself why I was here, I turned on my headlamp and started back the way I came, terrified at every sound until I realized that most of what I was hearing was other people. Other people meant safety.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_l0OwyHi-7fIyvSut_6pPDpnKy6IGMIyEFSCuyLBSMSnD5wCGt5ZMTvQjAmKCOgMf00H1ArNiR82WqLHsL9VrkL52lLmgswusZSB4XZYpppWJRqR-bDXTU5tN1fCwbP-i9-upEVpJBds/s1600/DSC_4493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_l0OwyHi-7fIyvSut_6pPDpnKy6IGMIyEFSCuyLBSMSnD5wCGt5ZMTvQjAmKCOgMf00H1ArNiR82WqLHsL9VrkL52lLmgswusZSB4XZYpppWJRqR-bDXTU5tN1fCwbP-i9-upEVpJBds/s1600/DSC_4493.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Every Saturday night in February, Bob Wild lights the lanterns and people come from all over to ski or snowshoe the lamplit trail to the warming shelter, an outdoor bonfire, and hot chocolate. Some of the people are staying in various shelters throughout the park, while many others come from nearby. I met some amazing people, people who didn't think I was crazy or particularly adventurous to be there alone. They were people like me, who believe that snowshoeing through the Porkies in the winter and staying in a Yurt is just something to do, no big deal. I felt like I belonged. I actually did belong.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipATPLOh2fLUt_6mwC19s87b2Az_DpojGBQ7Vf6oK5ZCqOo-jvT8ad982lgIg7buswbyq_bgCfxs4gt1K1hBv3JhZOigqQyVvKUFGeVwVHnWFbTNyKZZ5ismVVT2pLjyCg-MqI-TKIUs/s1600/DSC_4524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipATPLOh2fLUt_6mwC19s87b2Az_DpojGBQ7Vf6oK5ZCqOo-jvT8ad982lgIg7buswbyq_bgCfxs4gt1K1hBv3JhZOigqQyVvKUFGeVwVHnWFbTNyKZZ5ismVVT2pLjyCg-MqI-TKIUs/s1600/DSC_4524.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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I returned to my Yurt about 10:00pm, this time feeling overwhelmed by the peacefulness of hiking alone down a barely marked trail after dark. I almost went right past the Yurt, I couldn't see it, but I could see millions of stars winking at me, whispering a calm encouragement.<br />
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Remember those extremes of which I spoke? Opening the door to the Yurt, I was hit with a forceful blast of heat. Ten minutes later, I was stripped down to my underwear and standing in the open doorway trying to cool off. It was a sauna in there!<br />
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I thought that if I kept the fire low in the wood stove, I could reach a comfortable temperature, but that first night I discovered that the Yurt was either stifling hot, or as cold as the outdoors. There simply was no in-between. Reading the Yurt journal, I was pleased to see that all previous hikers complained of the same problem, so at least I wasn't stupid.<br />
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I lay there that first night, thinking my timing was all wrong. My parents needed me, I had driven <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8P-nm-baI5zVkh47cx64Uke8E9qQoV-CHRKPr0Jj0cUT1Uhsfi2gB7ixdrAVtOqGsLWaynfsCwVg8-46M7lxfie7Zc8_5zXYSs488b6pxwgEWdoe4G64LEMyYkcCTNN1-nskPLUjQoac/s1600/DSC_4432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8P-nm-baI5zVkh47cx64Uke8E9qQoV-CHRKPr0Jj0cUT1Uhsfi2gB7ixdrAVtOqGsLWaynfsCwVg8-46M7lxfie7Zc8_5zXYSs488b6pxwgEWdoe4G64LEMyYkcCTNN1-nskPLUjQoac/s1600/DSC_4432.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a>through one of the worst blizzards in 20 years, I was exhausted. Many of the tasks required of me called for energy and strength and I struggled to collect firewood that was buried under 4' of snow, carry out my garbage to the bear-proof container, cook outside in subzero temperatures, and snowshoe through the mountains. I did it all, but my limbs were tired and none of it came easy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPE1YbsfIsf0vpeWz280lNF1zdQbvvXfQULsGitdddoz_BlQaA8-3o9jgMqIYQgE9e3-zvpVEiNcH4ZqiUeUZLG7Jo8x43RMlFw7qZfZ6PkgYikTnFJyJEWYi_dTLKZhGYak4SdAPr1I/s1600/DSCN2799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPE1YbsfIsf0vpeWz280lNF1zdQbvvXfQULsGitdddoz_BlQaA8-3o9jgMqIYQgE9e3-zvpVEiNcH4ZqiUeUZLG7Jo8x43RMlFw7qZfZ6PkgYikTnFJyJEWYi_dTLKZhGYak4SdAPr1I/s1600/DSCN2799.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Then again, I was in the Porcupine Mountains in the middle of one of the coldest, snowiest winters ever recorded. You might think this is another item for the "bad timing" list, but this is what actually turned out to be the best timing possible.<br />
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How many people can say they walked on Lake Superior two miles from shore? How many people can climb on top of a 6' wave and stand there, only to slide down the back side? How many people will willingly hike for days with the temperature below zero and the 45 mph winds creating a feel of -30 F? It is unusual for Lake Superior to be 90% frozen, and I picked the best winter to experience her in a way few people ever will. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6coWObsXhuKKIrSHH6_TUTh6dVjOTXCzqZprDYIsYXhyphenhyphentkxykAoZTIZk4BDyL4UyejTvpMDf6hWOz996kNE5W8I_GvRMToAeZAkcqSAcCZ4ZB1GADDhbEtJg9k-qgniOlvGXmQ3mMZE/s1600/DSC_4463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6coWObsXhuKKIrSHH6_TUTh6dVjOTXCzqZprDYIsYXhyphenhyphentkxykAoZTIZk4BDyL4UyejTvpMDf6hWOz996kNE5W8I_GvRMToAeZAkcqSAcCZ4ZB1GADDhbEtJg9k-qgniOlvGXmQ3mMZE/s1600/DSC_4463.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ38skdYa3yg8JW_Fl7dY2tS9pFNfoSObjfJhBsEax-TBw45NhbKj0mYEOSWMGg4biBN6LwK2fP-lQ2-rHV6TZepE-kVJhs24xazfych5AXO-dVAGXrjzyynCawxQvJ3Z1DZQKVsqk0rY/s1600/DSC_4464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ38skdYa3yg8JW_Fl7dY2tS9pFNfoSObjfJhBsEax-TBw45NhbKj0mYEOSWMGg4biBN6LwK2fP-lQ2-rHV6TZepE-kVJhs24xazfych5AXO-dVAGXrjzyynCawxQvJ3Z1DZQKVsqk0rY/s1600/DSC_4464.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidewZJt7MwMlNsxtuX9YKHqpcANDpgyRG21KBqsm5KTBlC5RsvRjYzgs6JbD9cK-KhOIC4gKfBWkpFVxygpn2g0qul5t3hB0lOPbgkQ1jJy1Uw2oWfS9U57OoDfOAeYVd-T8c-iL-zRXw/s1600/IMG_0747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidewZJt7MwMlNsxtuX9YKHqpcANDpgyRG21KBqsm5KTBlC5RsvRjYzgs6JbD9cK-KhOIC4gKfBWkpFVxygpn2g0qul5t3hB0lOPbgkQ1jJy1Uw2oWfS9U57OoDfOAeYVd-T8c-iL-zRXw/s1600/IMG_0747.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a>An awe crept into my days. Awe for Mother Nature, the weather, snow,wind, and bitter cold. Awe for the mountains, blanketed in deep snow, and then Lake Superior, frozen and suddenly reigned in from her fury. There was awe for the fresh kill site in the deer yard, wolf tracks telling the story of life and death. A curious pack of coyotes who came too close to the Yurt inspired me to be brave and trust that these wild animals had no real interest in me. Mostly, though, I had awe of myself. Little ole' me, who has always taken the safe route and lived such a normal life, was here, in a Yurt in the middle of the mountains during a brutal winter, surrounded by coyotes, and unafraid. <br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">My husband was wrong. The best things don't come from good timing, they come from believing. </span></i></h3>
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With elderly parents, kids, and a husband, it's not the right time for me to be an outdoor adventurer. Yet, I believe the wilderness is pulling me to her, I believe there is a purpose for me that I don't quite understand, and I believe in myself. I can be stronger, smarter, and a better example. I can walk with wolves, stand on a tundra, climb mountains, and use these experiences for something good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCpqewntlmJbXDTaWGQdwAsTx-sk8XrxXGcCZfP8SdU4J_vil-BXo6xyXdp-Qx_yTtP8g4myb6Tt39RPeB0KY2_r8k6FmgkzW_XPqc5xv6dHP0sZgMzqxXXXlDTwVhfLf9NwiytpECKE/s1600/DSCN2792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCpqewntlmJbXDTaWGQdwAsTx-sk8XrxXGcCZfP8SdU4J_vil-BXo6xyXdp-Qx_yTtP8g4myb6Tt39RPeB0KY2_r8k6FmgkzW_XPqc5xv6dHP0sZgMzqxXXXlDTwVhfLf9NwiytpECKE/s1600/DSCN2792.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
There is nothing special about me. I am just like you. But if you think you could never snowshoe in the Porcupine Mountains in winter and stay in a Yurt, or if you think you'd never even want to, you are wrong. If I can do it, stumbling and frightened the whole way, you can too, and you should do it at least once, to believe in the balance of our natural world, believe in the role of every human, tree, wild animal, and body of water. Most important, do it to believe in yourself. But don't pull a sled. You really don't need all that stuff!<br />
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For more information about winter hiking in the Porcupine Mountains, please visit the <a href="http://www.michigan.gov/dnr/0,4570,7-153-10365_24196-158770--,00.html" target="_blank">Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park web page.</a> There you can find information for camping and activities in any season, and some great tips for a winter experience. For a list of what you need to pack, check out <a href="http://www.rei.com/learn/expert-advice/winter-snow-camping-checklist.html" target="_blank">REI's Winter Camping Essentials.</a><br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-8841795378867460322014-01-22T14:13:00.000-05:002014-01-22T14:13:03.168-05:00Where Is That Boy's Mother? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Images</td></tr>
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It's been an unusually snowy and cold winter here. We used to have winters like this when I was a kid, and I remember my mom would make me wear a heavy coat, boots, hat, and mittens just to run errands with her. I thought it was stupid since we would just be in the car, but there are two things about my mother you should know: 1) Never argue with my mother, and 2) My mother makes "Worst Case Scenario" look like a fairly tale compared to what she can imagine. So I bundled up to sit in the car with the heat on high (because if we slid off the road AND ran out of gas, we would want the car to stay warm as long as possible), and the sweat would run down from my hairline sticking out beneath my wool hat while my hands turned wet inside my double-lined mittens. My feet actually swelled from the warmth inside my boots, making them so tight I could no longer wiggle my toes. Even though we<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4SOW3m7t76jjIynWYMbjJoq4_IKmiJVJLsuCIPU11Y2YZ4MLmVZBV78ZyYE3PN3HgJUW1FalJiVhiG6cm8jqInlrg1arIrvGRO3cOhHpASKvHgeA6SO3-bYxBoAIfy5dreVfBpCgZwY/s1600/Snowsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4SOW3m7t76jjIynWYMbjJoq4_IKmiJVJLsuCIPU11Y2YZ4MLmVZBV78ZyYE3PN3HgJUW1FalJiVhiG6cm8jqInlrg1arIrvGRO3cOhHpASKvHgeA6SO3-bYxBoAIfy5dreVfBpCgZwY/s1600/Snowsuit.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Images "A Christmas Story"</td></tr>
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never once got in an accident (which would have been hard, because my mom wouldn't drive over 20mph in winter) or ran out of gas or became trapped by falling ice-covered trees or got lost in the two miles between our driveway and the grocery store parking lot, we were prepared.<br />
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Some of the lessons I learned from my childhood stayed with me. When the snow comes and the temperatures drop, I pack an emergency kit in my car. Just a few basic things that would come in handy if I slid off the road. I also keep an extra set of gloves, hat, and face shield in my car. I prefer driving without being all bundled up, but I make sure my winter gear is close at hand.<br />
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As most women do, I follow some of the same habits my mother did; the very same habits that made me question her sanity as a child. I've modified my rules a bit, but I insist my kids never get in their cars during the winter months without being prepared. They call me the "worry-wart", or sometimes they say <i>"Ok, grandma"</i> to me, which they know I don't like so they say it again. <br />
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I think, though, that some of the most satisfying moments in a mom's life come when she gets the opportunity to say <i>"See? I told you so."</i> I don't really say it, and the kids won't ever admit it, but they know when I'm right. Last week, I was driving with my youngest daughter, Bean, during a snow storm. We passed a pizza place, and this teenaged boy was in the parking area just off the street, on his hands and knees, trying to dig out his car after the snowplow had buried it. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, tennis shoes, no hat, and no gloves. I stopped at the red light and exclaimed to Bean,<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDDCuZfno4zOJMMPyXVNrtnKAqqyZr74kaii9Tp2XlY-T1MlcoAWA0bSa0KlT-lrqFJl64DMWHaudSa-DyPan-iW7YeWbT3xxBfVXYiWeYegSbebn5mP7qSDZQD7m_xgBKJ_c3IVbttg/s1600/DSCN2762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDDCuZfno4zOJMMPyXVNrtnKAqqyZr74kaii9Tp2XlY-T1MlcoAWA0bSa0KlT-lrqFJl64DMWHaudSa-DyPan-iW7YeWbT3xxBfVXYiWeYegSbebn5mP7qSDZQD7m_xgBKJ_c3IVbttg/s1600/DSCN2762.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: blue;">"Look at that! That boy is completely unprepared for winter! Where is his mother?" </span></h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVfdKOxPc551F_OZ-yN48GAEr88qbL_Sp-Tbo9cNVEnFRgbJl5CYaBXm1VdvX71oc4S1dtfYRadyTIgzco_gTk5I5_4B7nTAJmvVrdsi_umOoCLPdzwOE1Nzw7boBkf6ZWjm7FRLI5WOg/s1600/DSCN2765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVfdKOxPc551F_OZ-yN48GAEr88qbL_Sp-Tbo9cNVEnFRgbJl5CYaBXm1VdvX71oc4S1dtfYRadyTIgzco_gTk5I5_4B7nTAJmvVrdsi_umOoCLPdzwOE1Nzw7boBkf6ZWjm7FRLI5WOg/s1600/DSCN2765.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I couldn't stand it. I turned the car around, pulled in and parked right next to the boy, jumped out and opened the back of my Yukon. Pulling out my emergency kit, I quickly assembled the shovel, turned, and held it out to the boy. He stood and stared at me dumbly, and I said "It's called a shovel. Use it". He somewhat warily took the shovel from me and began digging his car out while I watched. When he was finished, he remarked that the shovel was easier than using his bare hands, so I took the opportunity to lecture him. I questioned where his hat and gloves were, why was he not wearing a coat and boots, and why did he not have anything in his car to help him out of this situation. He said,<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: blue;">"Geez, you sound like my mother!"</span></h3>
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Ah, so <i>that's</i> where he mother is. She's sitting at home worrying because her teenaged son wouldn't listen to her and refused to believe he needed the things she begged him to take. Been there, done that. Because the fact is, I have my car prepared for a winter emergency, but my two older kids don't. They are in college, they don't listen to me, and they think nothing bad will ever happen to them. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0GdTrwHXIOtzCepsHIvembdi-3DROSMPyzS99ahITR8dVQ8Dn2-4U0OARF-esmba7Ceg6v-s3DNUa5IKtMvRPK-OSHRMNM3JDDsbj-wmbkNmbOLTjZRZqP-8qCfi8TkCdsnlafdDXMY/s1600/0489406732140_A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0GdTrwHXIOtzCepsHIvembdi-3DROSMPyzS99ahITR8dVQ8Dn2-4U0OARF-esmba7Ceg6v-s3DNUa5IKtMvRPK-OSHRMNM3JDDsbj-wmbkNmbOLTjZRZqP-8qCfi8TkCdsnlafdDXMY/s1600/0489406732140_A.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.samsclub.com</td></tr>
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I ordered two <a href="http://www.samsclub.com/sams/search/searchResults.jsp?searchCategoryId=all&searchTerm=Justin+Case&fromHome=yes&_requestid=18001" target="_blank">Justin Case kits from Sam's Club</a> today. When they arrive, I will add extra hats, mittens, and socks to the kit, and I WILL put them in their cars the next time they come home. Nobody is going to look at my kid and say "Where is his mother?" I am right here, being over-protective and proud of it, and if my kids slide off the road during a snow storm, they can dig themselves out.<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
These are the items I always have in my car during the winter months, in case you'd like to put together a kit for yourself or your kids:</h2>
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57U-5zY_rZIGUT0tc0mP1wU87BMrwi9a2z2vB9ZKnGY2cOAsf9NAWCAcVag4TruA6_-nUCDt1JNmRQMrLTMIip3mHmg42jl6cAmT8NRrZtpe0bQGlasOFSvN4bl8t1XBzKOKwlsQ6Plc/s1600/DSCN2767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57U-5zY_rZIGUT0tc0mP1wU87BMrwi9a2z2vB9ZKnGY2cOAsf9NAWCAcVag4TruA6_-nUCDt1JNmRQMrLTMIip3mHmg42jl6cAmT8NRrZtpe0bQGlasOFSvN4bl8t1XBzKOKwlsQ6Plc/s1600/DSCN2767.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Bag of Bargain-Brand Kitty Litter<br />Collapsible Shovel<br />Emergency Triangle<br />Tow Strap<br />Jumper Cable<br />Thermal Blanket<br />Basic First-Aid Kit<br />Gloves, Hat, Socks, and Face Shield<br />Flashlight and Extra Batteries<br />Snow Brush/Ice Scraper</h4>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEHw0qlRT34JbiD4dqVB1MPc1Y3TYcUgH1IfvCAjNZJSHd0NsgSoX1DBbpWWDikI18Xg6dhIPUAaOWgRYMHtj3abNR6VEFWeg0H4emt_g5RibLCMV4IpUuFZOHrwZ-BYjZVUon6Zx-jg/s1600/DSCN2770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEHw0qlRT34JbiD4dqVB1MPc1Y3TYcUgH1IfvCAjNZJSHd0NsgSoX1DBbpWWDikI18Xg6dhIPUAaOWgRYMHtj3abNR6VEFWeg0H4emt_g5RibLCMV4IpUuFZOHrwZ-BYjZVUon6Zx-jg/s1600/DSCN2770.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
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The Justin Case from Sam's Club is under $20 and contains most of these items; just add the hat, mittens, socks, and face shield to the pocket on the outside of the case and throw a bag of litter in the trunk, and you are good to go.<br />
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It's inexpensive, easy, and will go a long way in helping a bad situation while winter driving. Don't leave home without it, your mother told you so!<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-23167252996895915812014-01-16T10:17:00.002-05:002014-01-16T10:17:25.517-05:00More Amazing Things About Indian Lake State Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are several things that fit my goals by camping at <a href="http://www.michigandnr.com/parksandtrails/details.aspx?id=420&type=SPRK" target="_blank">Indian Lake State Park</a>. I prefer camping in Michigan's U.P., but many places require a very long drive for me on two-lane roads, which Yoopers call highways. But Indian Lake is located just outside of Manistique, MI which is only an hour from the Mackinac Bridge, the gateway to the U.P.<br />
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Not only is it not so far away, the drive down U.S. 2 parallels the Lake Michigan shore, and every moment offers beautiful scenery. If you have to pull a tin can on a narrow road to get to your destination, a view of a Great Lake takes away much of the stress. Once you arrive in Manistique, there are actually gas stations and places to stop for coffee before the 5 minute drive out to the State Park. Indian Lake is easy to find, and any camping next to a body of water is good camping.<br />
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After spending a day exploring Kitch-iti-kipi and an evening hunkering down during a storm, I awoke to a flooded campground and 40mph winds. I don't think the flooding is typical, it was just a massive storm that dumped a lot of rain. The temperature had dropped 30 degrees, so instead of a calm sunny day in August with temps in the 70's, I was greeted with a cloudy windy day in the 40's. Big difference. I had to put my awning in, which meant I had no protection from the rain that was coming, and a campfire was out of the question. The wind would have carried the embers and potentially started an unwanted fire. So, what to do with my day? I visited the DNR ranger station, and was given some ideas.<br />
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Heading back to Manistique, I pulled into the parking area for the public beach on Lake Michigan. Only a couple other cars were parked, and upon climbing over a small dune, I was greeted with a site more akin to Lake Huron than Michigan. The beach looked awful, with debris piled up in small mounds. It wasn't until I started down the boardwalk and came to an informational sign that I understood the truly unique source of the debris, not to be found anywhere else.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcLGM4S8zYUf0mDT9OqaKDDm_sas61vvrxU7RXFl4-WHNv0Z7f6z43Xm-D1CCdy21m-vzDK59ImDT-C6V5xGnhClbKNLprR1ZAcc66t1MFz4eXBewtOJq0CheTBV_Vuesd049DKyT_BY/s1600/DSC_2670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcLGM4S8zYUf0mDT9OqaKDDm_sas61vvrxU7RXFl4-WHNv0Z7f6z43Xm-D1CCdy21m-vzDK59ImDT-C6V5xGnhClbKNLprR1ZAcc66t1MFz4eXBewtOJq0CheTBV_Vuesd049DKyT_BY/s1600/DSC_2670.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>During the lumbering era of the late 1800's and early 1900's, lumber mills in the Manistique area deposited wood chips and sawdust in the Manistique River, which flows into Lake Michigan. It is estimated that 5.1 million tons of sawdust (that's a <i>lot</i> of sawdust) washed into Lake Michigan, where it settled on the bottom. Storms, water currents, and large vessels churn up this sawdust, and over 100 years later, the sawdust is <i>still</i> washing up on the shore at Manistique.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisG36eDyzWsCLHSwmqYnZ6sfw2Q0DuWmHeuyOB9IajNIAXCpvib6QUPwHPSyokj-Ty5M7R9bHzdJ6wbVjXKCU4x_zIuVJcVKhwJvFf7zkjgv-_GJX38KqRcO_VFb-TaGqy5EcZed5iByo/s1600/DSC_2641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisG36eDyzWsCLHSwmqYnZ6sfw2Q0DuWmHeuyOB9IajNIAXCpvib6QUPwHPSyokj-Ty5M7R9bHzdJ6wbVjXKCU4x_zIuVJcVKhwJvFf7zkjgv-_GJX38KqRcO_VFb-TaGqy5EcZed5iByo/s1600/DSC_2641.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>I was fascinated by this. Taking my shoes off, I walked down the sandy dunes to the sawdust debris piled at the water's edge. At first I was apprehensive about walking barefoot, imagining millions of tiny splinters embedding in my feet, but the moment I stepped onto the first mound, I was immediately transported to a natural spa. The sawdust, soaked in water for over a century, felt like warm rum custard (or any kind of custard, I just prefer rum). I sunk in about 4-5 inches, and it was so soft, creamy and warm! Unlike mud, it didn't suck my feet under, and I was easily able to pull my feet out and walk some more. I felt like a child discovering the beach for the first time, with a sun-warmed carpet on which to walk while the chilly wind whipped my hair. I was completely enamored of the sawdust beach. <br />
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I found a piece of driftwood and sat down to take some pictures. There was a storm brewing over the water, but it had not yet clouded the sun and I knew I had plenty of time before the tumultuous clouds reached the shore. I watched a big ship loading it's passengers, stared up at the lighthouse, and marveled at the diamond-like quality of the surface of the water, with the sun shining on my back and a distant storm making its way toward Manistique from the south.<br />
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Even with the wind roaring around my head, I found a peacefulness, a serenity to the scene before me. I was seeing Mother Nature in all her forms and experiencing the pleasant side effect of an unpleasant contamination of the lake. My thoughts drifted, my body relaxed, when CRACK! BOOM! startled me in every single cell of my body. Turning around, I saw a doozy of a storm had snuck up behind me, from the north. It made the storm out over the water look pale in comparison. My first thought was I should prepare to head back to the campground. My second thought was <i>"What's going to happen when these two storms meet each other?"</i> That got me moving.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRHJYchk8QlVBpJQcRp6mBB6qI5w57g5qMOeIPseix4xBgvyV5bUcWeJ34WA0ymIPcSHuWi2biHhgzgfIFA1wEOrHHV87w_SLKXjpx7Mx2v2ml0EBr5H07FYDpwA9kJUHMP00hX10FYs/s1600/DSCN1935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRHJYchk8QlVBpJQcRp6mBB6qI5w57g5qMOeIPseix4xBgvyV5bUcWeJ34WA0ymIPcSHuWi2biHhgzgfIFA1wEOrHHV87w_SLKXjpx7Mx2v2ml0EBr5H07FYDpwA9kJUHMP00hX10FYs/s1600/DSCN1935.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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I made it to the car just as the first rain drops started to fall, and by the time I pulled out to the road the rain was coming down in sheets. Trees were bending over with the wind and lightning was flashing in every direction. I couldn't see to drive, but wanted so much to get back to the tin can and make sure she was holding up.<br />
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It took me 30 minutes to drive 7 miles, and the two storms met as I pulled up next to the camper. I didn't think it could get much worse, but I was wrong. In the four steps it took me to reach the camper door, I was drenched, and when I opened the door the wind threatened to rip it off the hinges. Safely inside, I changed into dry clothes and grabbed a book to wait it out.<br />
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It was only early afternoon, and the storm raged for three more hours. By the time it was over, the campers at Indian Lake had torn awnings, blown away furniture, and a general mess to clean up. As people slowly emerged from RV's and tents, we all greeted each other and helped put things right. I had fared well, having put everything that was outside my camper in the back of my Yukon that morning. It was still too windy to put anything back out, so I helped others while forlornly looking at my bare campsite. Camping for me involves sitting by a fire, being outside, and enjoying nature. The only thing left for me at that point was to stay outside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrP_-4j8m9vGKqN0H66S-pszWHSSsl81SkFQ_MPdKqMPVNpDvHk7t2K2gl55M7qQk5WyjXnVIQQ_3b8S1s3rAPeg3e7tnPozaavJcVb3XH6eIDt-4Kh5PpH2UKb-vKcfSkQ8kmxaZPJY/s1600/DSCN2031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrP_-4j8m9vGKqN0H66S-pszWHSSsl81SkFQ_MPdKqMPVNpDvHk7t2K2gl55M7qQk5WyjXnVIQQ_3b8S1s3rAPeg3e7tnPozaavJcVb3XH6eIDt-4Kh5PpH2UKb-vKcfSkQ8kmxaZPJY/s1600/DSCN2031.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I walked the entire campground to see the damage and take pictures. I found a general day-use lodge, empty, and took some pictures while dreaming of what it would be like to live there, sans all the other campers. A stone lodge on a lake had me planning where the living area would be, the kitchen, and mostly my bedroom, which would occupy the space of the current men's room with an incredible view of the lake. It wasn't just that I love dreaming about my cabin in the woods on a bluff overlooking a lake, it also gave me a break from the relentless wind. I found myself wishing I could start a fire in the massive stone fireplace and spend my evening there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GUOgryBJXUOzdJORbqByprsizIjmrTvL8rsIZLuTiKMGLCOkM6IB_rIXxf3cFe9Q4fCkXZH0neZoTMnGd95zbHlicD1G1nRpzMI-eYELOnAnhPOAJ6OiOZDUcc1txWfrp5A1ZpJHU7A/s1600/DSCN2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GUOgryBJXUOzdJORbqByprsizIjmrTvL8rsIZLuTiKMGLCOkM6IB_rIXxf3cFe9Q4fCkXZH0neZoTMnGd95zbHlicD1G1nRpzMI-eYELOnAnhPOAJ6OiOZDUcc1txWfrp5A1ZpJHU7A/s1600/DSCN2020.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Leaving the lodge, I discovered the trail system at Indian Lake State Park. What an amazing system of trails, well-marked, surrounded by tall pines and following the shoreline. The wind was marginally less abusive in the trees, allowing me to walk for a couple of miles before looping back to the campground. My camera never stopped clicking away as I had the trails to myself. Apparently, I was the only camper crazy enough to go hiking in this weather.<br />
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Another stormy night ensued, but the next morning broke sunny, cold, and still windy. I planned to hike the Hiawatha National Forest (which I'll write about later) before leaving the next day. Locking up the tin can, I headed out for yet another adventure surrounding Indian Lake State Park, eager to embrace the sun and confident it was far too cold for the snakes to stalk me in the forest. <br />
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There is just so much to do when camping at Indian Lake! <br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-38646396053516057122014-01-13T12:52:00.001-05:002014-01-13T12:52:13.675-05:00Indian Lake State Park…Something for Everyone!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are so many beautiful and fascinating places in America to explore! Because my vintage Airstream needs to be treated with lots of tender loving care, I never get to see those places. The old tin can just isn't up for long road trips. The good news, though, is there are still lots of places right here in Michigan that I haven't seen, and the Mitten State offers endless opportunities for camping, lodging, outdoor recreation, and breathtaking scenery. In just the last two years, Michigan has given me ice climbing, kayaking, mountain biking, hiking, mountain climbing, and winter survival skills. Last summer I stopped in at Indian Lake State Park for one night, and ended up changing my travel plans to stay there four days. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4gB9JZ4kGLDm0rBVOOJ6rKiPwgVKHwoLGF_NQnu_uzT_NJ5-XhR1FMSslbA95priWMnVnxyJ71gNmlJlW_7inbSlW2FaEgSIrcMoCk-fOOHVoi9TTB1QV1cemsxz3eM_McIl8Gs5RZQ/s1600/DSCN2023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4gB9JZ4kGLDm0rBVOOJ6rKiPwgVKHwoLGF_NQnu_uzT_NJ5-XhR1FMSslbA95priWMnVnxyJ71gNmlJlW_7inbSlW2FaEgSIrcMoCk-fOOHVoi9TTB1QV1cemsxz3eM_McIl8Gs5RZQ/s200/DSCN2023.jpg" width="200" /></a>Indian Lake State Park in Michigan's Upper Peninsula has something for everyone. Looking for a Great Lakes Beach? Got it. Looking for the 4th largest inland lake in the U.P.? It's there. Don't have a camper? Stay in a cabin. Want to hike or kayak? Done. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ir65hXSi8vfLzGe4Je4rp2bJvXpb6lMG2gFyv8Bn9PvpKPTwp0dn4rlJJoNZAQxXyK67rFEOGUttlj7R4_CWo0yC_KFXpVQ9eK0_pBr6bVMG8jHDlsy0OyjofphZ0xWRJr40xRSro2Y/s1600/DSCN1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ir65hXSi8vfLzGe4Je4rp2bJvXpb6lMG2gFyv8Bn9PvpKPTwp0dn4rlJJoNZAQxXyK67rFEOGUttlj7R4_CWo0yC_KFXpVQ9eK0_pBr6bVMG8jHDlsy0OyjofphZ0xWRJr40xRSro2Y/s200/DSCN1999.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3leEcISueyGjV3d-7cW4gtDdXxB1bGfO1IhQrD9ufHPgsZ5_DZbycIyg29ydm8If_TeCDnym8LcyUyDAQfdUAyfkqzNd4Sgf3Gi7fPmN8BNaID5ii2RFOfgB5bLjYjnfqM_j0oj3kxE/s1600/DSCN2005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3leEcISueyGjV3d-7cW4gtDdXxB1bGfO1IhQrD9ufHPgsZ5_DZbycIyg29ydm8If_TeCDnym8LcyUyDAQfdUAyfkqzNd4Sgf3Gi7fPmN8BNaID5ii2RFOfgB5bLjYjnfqM_j0oj3kxE/s200/DSCN2005.jpg" width="200" /></a>The campground itself is diverse, with a few sites offering privacy, and many suitable sites for families and friends to camp together. It has the usual S.P. amenities of a modern campground with electrical hook-ups, water and dump station, clean bathrooms and showers, and a semi-modern area with electricity and vault toilets. For those without camping equipment, modern cabins are available as well. The landscape is a mix of wide-open spaces with tree-lined sites in between. The entire campground sits on the south shore of 8400 acre Indian Lake, offering stunning sunsets and sweeping views of water and distant shores. I found it is an excellent place to also watch an approaching storm.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5s64kyb-0oSSxN9ni90pcgnqbHdqGgt-r1LAVZJf9lCiB7-054a_ITlS_-3geZiJ1xQxLTMz2U4m9j1wT0NqmX14rZ5s-NFJ5OAQz-iTyBOqq3C-6c8VFpmPn7nI50IB4_1zsShXyBV0/s1600/DSC_2476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5s64kyb-0oSSxN9ni90pcgnqbHdqGgt-r1LAVZJf9lCiB7-054a_ITlS_-3geZiJ1xQxLTMz2U4m9j1wT0NqmX14rZ5s-NFJ5OAQz-iTyBOqq3C-6c8VFpmPn7nI50IB4_1zsShXyBV0/s200/DSC_2476.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
But it was in venturing only short distances from the campground that I found all the gems of this trip. First up was Kitch-iti-kipi. <br />
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The brochure I found at the campground said Kitch-iti-kipi is one of the U.P.'s Seven Natural Wonders (which makes me wonder what the other six are, and have I seen them?), calling it <i>Mysteriously Awesome!</i> and a <i>Mirror of Heaven</i>. It sounded a bit like a tourist trap, but the campground DNR ranger encouraged me to go, so I did. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtI4Hsm3CbTbT-4yCcyqFtZsomCgxjE5blcCZx6UvWcvfrqIOrpCXgXwPfwl6mNKIBuP4jgd3EYXqFVYAEw4l40JPuy2KFlSEzNXIaPT7j7fujyGk2z_aKYieGU5S4Q1MNR2rC2GyJZnc/s1600/DSC_2487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtI4Hsm3CbTbT-4yCcyqFtZsomCgxjE5blcCZx6UvWcvfrqIOrpCXgXwPfwl6mNKIBuP4jgd3EYXqFVYAEw4l40JPuy2KFlSEzNXIaPT7j7fujyGk2z_aKYieGU5S4Q1MNR2rC2GyJZnc/s320/DSC_2487.jpg" width="320" /></a>A quick 7 mile drive had me pulling into the parking area of Palm Books State Park, which does not allow camping or fishing. You'll find out in a bit why the no fishing thing could be a big deal to some people. Walking down a very short path to the edge of the Big Spring, I got my first glimpse and was highly intrigued. <br />
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I have never seen water, or anything else for that matter, the color of Kitch-iti-kipi. You know those sticks you can buy to throw in a bonfire and turn the flames colors? It was like someone had thrown one of those in the water, except the informational plaque assured me the color was natural. From the brochure I learned that the Big Spring is two hundred feet across and forty feet deep. An even more amazing fact is over 10,000 gallons <i>a minute</i> gush from fissures in the underlying limestone at a year-round constant temperature of 45 degrees F. <br />
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Stepping onto the self-guided observation raft, I immediately saw a burst of sand from deep below, looking like a volcano eruption without the fire. The sand swirled and rose, and I could actually see the water pushing up from below. It was an awesome display of nature.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4o_8mRs-ypvSPLwQTOCFoD3jOZG43b8f1xWI_E5ylYmUNkZxz42_C-Uumu0VKNFaOquscizLqLKch-rNXibRBPPrXl-yl4gNABU6U-cfD3sC0h97atndxgiGyou-9u0g8NNS-I-Palpo/s1600/DSC_2544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4o_8mRs-ypvSPLwQTOCFoD3jOZG43b8f1xWI_E5ylYmUNkZxz42_C-Uumu0VKNFaOquscizLqLKch-rNXibRBPPrXl-yl4gNABU6U-cfD3sC0h97atndxgiGyou-9u0g8NNS-I-Palpo/s320/DSC_2544.jpg" width="320" /></a>As if the color, depth, and eruptions aren't enough, there is an even more amazing feature of Kitch-iti-kipi; the trout. Hundreds of massive trout swim in its depths, sometimes suspended in time, sometimes drifting lazily, and occasionally darting to and fro. Looking down through the opening in the center of the raft, I could barely comprehend how deep the trout were below me, while being able to see every mark on them through crystal clear water. I could only imagine that it would just about kill an avid fisherman to stand there and not drop a line! But these trout are protected from sportsmen, which might explain their massive size. Or perhaps its that the fresh water surging into the spring from deep in the earth provides the most healthy of environments for them. All I know is the trout are magnificent!<br />
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I met a man as I was leaving the raft, who inquired about my camera. We chatted, and it turns out he is a writer from a secret society in the middle of the desert. Seriously. He lives in a small community in the desert which its citizens prefer to keep a secret. They love their little town and do not want its beauty to be ruined by interlopers. He is writing a book about the flowers of the desert, but has been asked by his community not to publish it, for fear they will be found. Only I could meet a secret writer from a secret town with a secret book. If the man had not been so warm and genuinely nice, I might have been a little creeped out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9OOp3F2WFKNFA9wtEYU8AVkiSOytrr-c40zP-MC6VHwwd3vnNM4AlecpVudm8NPGrecLNoRu2II8zlDd5n8bdKLoot_xApQTdKNJKB4JvT0STQ_rvDJczewp0GyRpzOPpQlI_9wr4tw/s1600/Bear+Blanket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9OOp3F2WFKNFA9wtEYU8AVkiSOytrr-c40zP-MC6VHwwd3vnNM4AlecpVudm8NPGrecLNoRu2II8zlDd5n8bdKLoot_xApQTdKNJKB4JvT0STQ_rvDJczewp0GyRpzOPpQlI_9wr4tw/s320/Bear+Blanket.jpg" width="320" /></a>I visited the gift shop, and bought (on sale 60% off) a lap blanket for my friend Debbie. It had a big bear on it, of which Debbie is terrified but now uses as a bear and people repellent. I bought a matching one for myself. I also left the gift shop happily licking away at an ice cream cone. I do not normally have ice cream when camping in the U.P. so it was a big deal, trust me.<br />
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This morning, I came across a photo on the internet by U.P. photographer Tiffany Trepanier, of the observation platform at Kitch-iti-kip on a cold winter's day. It looks much different, but what a beautiful photo!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit: Tiffany Trepanier</td></tr>
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After leaving the Big Spring and arriving back at Indian Lake State Park, I was rather dismayed to find the wind, which was pulling a massive summer storm across Lake Michigan, had destroyed my artfully arranged campsite. My camp chair was in the woods, my vase of wildflowers shattered and flowers strewn everywhere, and the ground mat had blown beneath the tin can. The first flash of lightning lit up the sky, so I went straight to the tin can to wait out the storm. It was a wild night, with winds rocking the Airstream and thunder echoing, but I stayed warm and dry while I slept deeply. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLGQ4yoRVe1wToCLjubE8q3_1IYOSetTRfA2SRqfJXDjS0GazEcD9CiNWrLOc1s2shX7nGr0i_pOVql2p0KihE0VN4giQrTexVyJWobE8wRKcY8t2QRrN9I6oSVLACVj6z10Jq_fpcrk/s1600/DSCN2025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLGQ4yoRVe1wToCLjubE8q3_1IYOSetTRfA2SRqfJXDjS0GazEcD9CiNWrLOc1s2shX7nGr0i_pOVql2p0KihE0VN4giQrTexVyJWobE8wRKcY8t2QRrN9I6oSVLACVj6z10Jq_fpcrk/s320/DSCN2025.jpg" width="320" /></a>The next morning I stepped out of the tin can to find myself in a shallow lake that was not there the day before. The single backpacking tent on the site next to me was floating in the flooded field. Had it not been for the spectacular sunrise I was greeted with, I might have been worried. As it was, the 40 mph winds would most likely dry the campground out by noon, and I had more places to go! Check out my next post in which I will introduce you to centuries-old sawdust, a sneaky storm, and Hiawatha. Like I said, something for everyone!<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-55069609218657676522014-01-09T13:05:00.000-05:002014-01-09T13:05:42.735-05:00Two Tyttos on the Way to the Kaymala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After leaving the Porcupine Mountains to join Debbie at Brimley State Park, I was feeling a bit out of sorts. I had dreamed my whole life of going to the Porkies, and I wasn't ready to leave yet. Arriving at Brimley in the cold and rain didn't help. But since I enjoy time with Debbie so much, I was starting to settle in, though with a lingering sadness that I just couldn't shake. Our second morning at Brimley was still cold and overcast, but the rain had stopped. I took advantage of the weather to stock up on firewood, fill my water tank, and clean up inside the tin can. Then we were off again to explore the more civilized sites around Brimley.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3-c3kS_rTZ2p4p3INoelTb1M3gLMkmTk7hD6yIhsI574C49K6kGqidJbGp3_nMlCg_dcGycUku9hpU50k5_r3AEsvIhOdhvANfQ85PvGLKSyxq3u5AnS2E6lQeFnmNBdqgYvWYc-1Ig/s1600/IMG_0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3-c3kS_rTZ2p4p3INoelTb1M3gLMkmTk7hD6yIhsI574C49K6kGqidJbGp3_nMlCg_dcGycUku9hpU50k5_r3AEsvIhOdhvANfQ85PvGLKSyxq3u5AnS2E6lQeFnmNBdqgYvWYc-1Ig/s1600/IMG_0002.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13Ab8AgUNzcap08VwJnDciMmD9G4kfoHmb297Uy0fym5rl9t2U3dLCxD48c_fUqOBbSMfS1Ix86iPIfun7u2nQ-g7bIvHaLHDYT9yubLcZ9RSSPlRsyZOjUe58DkBTrhCxKJEq4cNvr0/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13Ab8AgUNzcap08VwJnDciMmD9G4kfoHmb297Uy0fym5rl9t2U3dLCxD48c_fUqOBbSMfS1Ix86iPIfun7u2nQ-g7bIvHaLHDYT9yubLcZ9RSSPlRsyZOjUe58DkBTrhCxKJEq4cNvr0/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a>First stop: The Old Indian Burial Ground on the Ojibwe Reservation. Debbie and I wanted to explore inside the grounds, but signs on the wrought iron fence prohibited entering, and I am a rule follower, so we used our imaginations to determine what was inside all the little boxes. I had read somewhere that Indians would bury their dead in a shallow mound for 9 months, then dig up the bones and place them in a wooden box above ground. I didn't know if this is true, but a quick internet search at the Coffee House revealed the boxes to be Spirit Houses, which were built to house the spirits that protect the grave, and supplied with tools and resources the dead would need to enter the spirit world. We couldn't see what was inside the boxes, but had fun guessing!<br />
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I had promised Debbie we would go to a lighthouse. The previous year was the first time she had seen one, and after falling in love with all the lore about Michigan Lighthouses, Debbie made a pledge to see as many as possible. We drove 7 miles to the Point Iroquois Lighthouse, and by this time I had to use the restroom, like <i>now</i>. (This seems to be a recurring theme on my travels with Debbie). As we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a restroom building on my right and parked in front of a sign that read "Due to the government shutdown, this facility is closed". Noooooooooooo! The Point Iroquois Lighthouse is federally owned. Did not know that. We got out of the car, and with a certain amount of envy I let Rooney pee on a bush. An old man came ambling over to us, asking if we needed to use the restroom. I guess his first clue was the fact that I parked right next to the door to the Ladies' Room. His second clue may have been the fact that I was walking with my legs crossed. He explained that he was a volunteer light keeper, and had keys to the bathroom. </div>
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"What are they gonna do? Fire me? I'm a 78 year old volunteer, I don't care what they do!" I fell a little bit in love with the old light keeper.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTv-mGlp1uHHZIFG0kC54dNGh9tSS8RFVRUZcOge7acix6H8Kf-PQxAxaAhSGzxZ2AYY2rMYgW-3uAx4nkxpzOzHuTGote359SasoEY7o1cHI-OLfOe7zqtPbKInR46Ar7RMvQ8Rj7JpQ/s1600/Rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTv-mGlp1uHHZIFG0kC54dNGh9tSS8RFVRUZcOge7acix6H8Kf-PQxAxaAhSGzxZ2AYY2rMYgW-3uAx4nkxpzOzHuTGote359SasoEY7o1cHI-OLfOe7zqtPbKInR46Ar7RMvQ8Rj7JpQ/s1600/Rocks.jpg" /></a>We couldn't tour the lighthouse, but after gratefully using the restroom Debbie and I walked down to the shore of Lake Superior. The lake was whipping herself into a fury, with cloudy skies and a fierce wind. Wearing my Hunter rubber boots, I was able to wade the frigid waters to find a few interesting rocks, while Debbie braved going barefoot. It was a beautiful area and we happily spent some time rock hunting and letting Rooney swim. As we were leaving, we saw a sign informing us it is a Federal Crime to remove any rocks from the beach. We ran for the car, laughing and emptying our pockets along the way, lest some Secret Service Agent was hiding in the trees with binoculars, waiting to slap the cuffs on us and haul us away to Leavenworth. </div>
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That pretty much ended our exploring for this trip. The weather really was miserable. A bonfire and a good book sounded just right, so we headed back to the campground.</div>
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I always try to keep moving on these trips, because I am well aware of what habits we will fall into at the campsite. Sit, and eat. Sit some more, eat some more. Watch the clock until it's 6:00pm, then add drink to the routine. To be honest, sometimes I enjoy doing nothing for a while, but then I get bored. That's when the trouble usually starts.</div>
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I was restless. The rain had started up again, this time harder. There are no trails in Brimley, nowhere to hike. The beach behind our campsite was cold and wet. The campground was just about full with Halloween campers, people were outside around campfires with massive tarps over their sites, children were running and laughing, families shouted back and forth, and here sat Debbie and me, anti-social, alone. Boring.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcavNn6M4ZJZ8HJoFxz1bvIiLR2_oVx4SrCavFv0yZO5rtANBSNOoRYpatIvaNN_ln7VhSQuxRjzUMVcsK_-vrESYIiNcCjRabMgpcSDsDUgpmRKj3oYLTznL8mmcoExFmXz9cypR_IU/s1600/DSCN2501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcavNn6M4ZJZ8HJoFxz1bvIiLR2_oVx4SrCavFv0yZO5rtANBSNOoRYpatIvaNN_ln7VhSQuxRjzUMVcsK_-vrESYIiNcCjRabMgpcSDsDUgpmRKj3oYLTznL8mmcoExFmXz9cypR_IU/s1600/DSCN2501.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Then I realized that the official campground Trick-or-Treating had begun! If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Debbie rudely ignored my newfound enthusiasm as she stayed right next to the fire reading, but I went out to the front of our site with a bowl of candy and my Martha Stewart decorations to greet the families. While I wasn't technically wearing a costume, Debbie pointed out that the wind and rain had done such a number on my hair, I easily could pass for a scarecrow. </div>
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I spent an hour exclaiming over the kiddies' costumes, calling out to Debbie who pretended she couldn't hear me over the wind, and passing out all the candy. By the time the last of the trick-or-treaters moved on, I was restless again. Then the rain picked up, coming down hard enough to make the fire sizzle, and we were forced to run into the tin can.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPTRn0Iy3TlAMYsheHpwPeLV5YZ_9H2Jt7RT5lph1KYlrh4shpfGWgCWNpjpcmJ9jb-W6L3mwaEPjqYQInLB1r8PEXlxcfihB8w4L1ppiT0PUBebMcCQy8DmJYQZzR1u923QtbpexZx9k/s1600/4'+floor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPTRn0Iy3TlAMYsheHpwPeLV5YZ_9H2Jt7RT5lph1KYlrh4shpfGWgCWNpjpcmJ9jb-W6L3mwaEPjqYQInLB1r8PEXlxcfihB8w4L1ppiT0PUBebMcCQy8DmJYQZzR1u923QtbpexZx9k/s1600/4'+floor.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>If you've never seen my tin can, let me explain how this works. Even though the trailer is 22' long, there is about 4' of empty floor space inside. Within that 4' space, I have a chair and table. Now, add my 130lb dog to the 4' space. You start to get the idea, right? It was crowded in the tin can. </div>
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Between leaving the mountains too soon, the crappy weather, no trails, a crowded camper and a full campground, I was starting to get a little crazy, and Debbie was not a happy camper. It was time for a change.</div>
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The rest of our evening definitely involves shenanigans, probably involves a little rule-breaking, but I will neither admit or deny the involvement of Captain Morgan. That's for you to decide. It began when I heated some apple cider and pulled out a booklet called <i>A Troll's Guide to the Better Understanding of the Yoopanese Language</i>. Things really started looking up when, after the third mug of hot cider, which may or may not have been embellished by the Captain, Debbie challenged me to speak nothing but Yoopanese the rest of the night. I double-dog dared her to do same. All of that would have been great for a few laughs, but we upped the ante when we decided to take our skilled language use to the streets…or at least the drives in the campground. Donning raincoats and flashlights, we left the warmth and safety of the tin can to visit the four-holer (a bathroom with four stalls) and speak to as many people as possible in our acquired language along the way.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn31PvMxefPrWstD8XiSQ6Ckapz6u3Ihx03o3lN2Kb55ky_6sfyee4_i7hj8uraXzivkFDwq9l8I7v0guXP80F8axlMZyGZRXmRNx_D1LIoHaJDi5uwvDfnyrHRNhyphenhyphenlrjt_IlUCWpZD8c/s1600/DSCN2477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn31PvMxefPrWstD8XiSQ6Ckapz6u3Ihx03o3lN2Kb55ky_6sfyee4_i7hj8uraXzivkFDwq9l8I7v0guXP80F8axlMZyGZRXmRNx_D1LIoHaJDi5uwvDfnyrHRNhyphenhyphenlrjt_IlUCWpZD8c/s1600/DSCN2477.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>At each decorated site we passed, we called out to the groups of hardy campers huddled under their awnings with kegs of beer, "Lookin' spooky over there, eh?" If the campers replied with "Oh ya, you betcha!" Debbie and I laughed and high-fived each other, knowing we had found real Yoopers. We easily conversed with natives about such important matters as terrorists (people from Detroit who only come to the U.P. during deer season), Chicquito Repellant (12-gauge shotgun), Nubbas (knitted hats worn by Yooper grannies), Camp (Yoopers' second home), Side By Each (standing next to each other), and Kits (children).</div>
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One such conversation went something like this:</div>
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Yooper: "I see yer wearing da Kromer" (Official hat of Yoopers, a Stormy Kromer)</div>
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Me: "Oh, ya, you betcha. Youse guys dem guys wit ta Yooper Caddy?" (Chevy Impala with no rust)</div>
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Yooper: "Ya. She was in da crotch, (garage), but we git her runnin"</div>
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Me: "She do a Yogi?" (a controlled 360 degree skid)</div>
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Yooper: "Oh, ya, you betcha. Not wit a Trooper doh" (Meaning a student from the lower peninsula who attends a U.P. college should not attempt a Yogi, even in an Impala)</div>
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Me: "Youse got sinkers dere?" (asking for one of their donuts)</div>
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Yooper: "Ya, but dey got hard. Need mud" (coffee)</div>
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Me: "I got mud. Need sinkers"</div>
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Everyone: Laugh</div>
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I must say, Debbie and I got pretty good at Yoopanese. Or in udder words, we was reg-you-lar Jackpine Savages, eh? All we needed was plaid shirts and no one would have ever guessed we were Lopers.</div>
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We weren't making fun of Yoopers. I <i>love</i> the way they talk, and the way they laugh <i>with</i> us, not <i>at</i> us. I love Yoopers because they are cheerful, positive, and hardy. They welcome even a Troll like me, make me feel like I belong. They are helpful and creative and strong. Maybe, that's the real reason why I keep dragging Debbie to the U.P.</div>
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Maybe I wasn't really trying to force Debbie to love the wilderness. I think, all along, I wanted to introduce her to a place where community is everything. Perhaps I wanted Debbie to know that when I leave home, I go to a place that is its own little country, with its own rules and language, its own culture, and its a good place, with good people. I just want Debbie to know she is welcome here.</div>
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We get so caught up in everything in our real lives at home. Cell phones, iPads, and internet govern our time. Throw in a few meetings and a crisis or two, teenage kids' drama, and the PTA, and it's easy to forget about the <i>people</i> in your life as you are overwhelmed by the <i>problems</i> in your life. But in Michigan's U.P., the information age still consists of neighbors visiting neighbors. The problems arise from a fickle Mother Nature, and life's joys come in the simplest packages. Yoopers are slow to judge, quick to help, hard to offend, and easy to know. For one hour that night, Debbie was one of them. She walked in the rain. She laughed. She ended sentences with "<i>eh</i>?". She left all her fears and worries in the tin can and put herself out there with no pretensions. <i>This</i> is what I wanted to share with her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4mtCXs9CYcK_swKaYaDo4LM8aquhys8-o7lxREH3jQG32ctgj2sci-N0YfT9JR0jnmO4cmbMqHMEeWGMR_qIU48YXynSYn6VKnGQcP2kgFf52YHGXeszADdBhTsaxPHCTsUej3wKvaE/s1600/up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4mtCXs9CYcK_swKaYaDo4LM8aquhys8-o7lxREH3jQG32ctgj2sci-N0YfT9JR0jnmO4cmbMqHMEeWGMR_qIU48YXynSYn6VKnGQcP2kgFf52YHGXeszADdBhTsaxPHCTsUej3wKvaE/s1600/up.jpg" height="320" width="209" /></a>The tin can is a means of travel. It makes it possible for me to find peace. But perhaps Debbie and I are cheating ourselves by hiding in a corner of a campground. The peace isn't found in the tin can, it is found when we leave the tin can, put ourselves out there, and join a community of good people. We are already talking about where we might go next year. She still has her list of requirements for our location, with things like water and electricity listed as a high priority. I have only one condition: we <i>must</i> go to the U.P. It's where we belong.</div>
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: The title of this post uses two Finnish words commonly heard in the U.P. </div>
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Tytto means "girl", and Kaymala means "toilet". </div>
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-59085032382861079052014-01-08T15:46:00.001-05:002014-01-08T18:22:45.603-05:00The Not-So-Adventurous Adventures of Two Anti-Social Introverted Recluses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd5tom3odyk2rIiqmS16cpHcwaGfZu85J2O3o_PggEL6jjxWBz4KNQIpExlAgJVVmSAZuGYhetEvnSLYhu7K1HB4bBmXzn3T5g6jABdWb40i-0SKZBOQB8LgniTkUIs64ZP4Mt1ruZqM/s1600/DSC_7948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd5tom3odyk2rIiqmS16cpHcwaGfZu85J2O3o_PggEL6jjxWBz4KNQIpExlAgJVVmSAZuGYhetEvnSLYhu7K1HB4bBmXzn3T5g6jABdWb40i-0SKZBOQB8LgniTkUIs64ZP4Mt1ruZqM/s1600/DSC_7948.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>In October 2012, I tried to ignite a passion in my best friend Debbie for outdoor adventure. It was an epic fail. To be fair to Debbie, getting her lost in the wilderness for 11 hours probably wasn't the best way to introduce her to my love of adventure. She gave it her best shot, but Debbie will never share my love for hiking in the middle of nowhere among the wild animals, though somewhere out there is a hibernating bear who can't get "God Bless America" out of his head, thanks to Debbie's attempts to warn him of our presence.<br />
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Our annual Fall Camping Trip had become such an important part of our friendship, that despite her fear, Debbie agreed to join me again in October 2013, though she offered up a few rules, contingencies, and guidelines. She would come, but if I wanted to set foot on a trail, she would be happily waving me on my way from the campfire. If I wanted to venture any distance from the campground, she would only accompany me if we were going someplace with lots of people. And electricity. During our travels, she must have the opportunity to take a break from exploring and eat real food, not the leaves from a plant that is probably not poisonous, if I'm reading the Field Guide correctly.<br />
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Ok, it's not quite the way I camp, but for Debbie, I would do anything. After exploring the Porcupine Mountain Wilderness area for a week on my own, I agreed to meet Debbie at <a href="http://www.michigandnr.com/parksandtrails/details.aspx?id=414&type=SPRK" target="_blank">Brimley State Park</a> in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Brimley is a little more connected to civilization, has hot showers in the Bath House, and is close to the Bay Mills Ojibwe Indian Community. After experiencing temperatures in the 80's the week before, we arrived during a steady rain and 40 degrees. Brrrrr.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-GIO8qxzPtQNnAEiidEYv1kYU995mMGTIdzDh9Af5jrFSRTP8k7-QavYE1j1HpSA7smb43TyuHHnSQVQ1uWE4fmGrmtf3G4nzWKL0FaVEDoxpUUAOtpgVPKuopBuP0tGTt9NIGZ5nPs/s1600/DSCN2461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-GIO8qxzPtQNnAEiidEYv1kYU995mMGTIdzDh9Af5jrFSRTP8k7-QavYE1j1HpSA7smb43TyuHHnSQVQ1uWE4fmGrmtf3G4nzWKL0FaVEDoxpUUAOtpgVPKuopBuP0tGTt9NIGZ5nPs/s1600/DSCN2461.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
I got there first, and found a deserted campground located on the shore of Lake Superior, just north of Sault St. Marie. Much to my delight, I only saw three other campers in the entire park. Then the park ranger informed me I had arrived on the busiest and most fun weekend of the whole year, <i>HalloweenFest! </i>Within a day, the campground filled up, happy campers turned their sites into haunted houses and cemeteries, and echoes of eerie halloween music and owl calls were ringing through the air. Lovely. The two introverted anti-social recluses on Site #55 didn't stand a chance.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2c_4_N4T6wrELGmIEjvCNtJNfL1jhrbpWPTZb85XnrY8iFegvX0iBxVggSN11NsevnQ54k2PHVe51h4Hu5fHVPXcMr5nvHXyDtAZ2Yg8oHbaxUNcfntgJ2KayK5OVQNCOXvcTQ3Igj-k/s1600/DSCN2598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2c_4_N4T6wrELGmIEjvCNtJNfL1jhrbpWPTZb85XnrY8iFegvX0iBxVggSN11NsevnQ54k2PHVe51h4Hu5fHVPXcMr5nvHXyDtAZ2Yg8oHbaxUNcfntgJ2KayK5OVQNCOXvcTQ3Igj-k/s1600/DSCN2598.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>I like to join the spirit of things, so I ran back into town, and on a meager budget, did what I could to decorate our campsite. I thought it looked nice, until <br />
another camper remarked, somewhat snidely, that my decorations were "very Martha-Stewart". I don't think it was a compliment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfHyrtgFaYsVt3Q2yXDOPVzFMKcCarEYvIbeu9bHQEM0FZIsqDJT-Qr2KExqAMug4FP8z7w1EvPhedso3R49XUTlBCQMkHtZyrAbTFwD1OCEyGoVAtGcrYDgTmCNfysU47D319VgGTwE/s1600/DSCN2438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfHyrtgFaYsVt3Q2yXDOPVzFMKcCarEYvIbeu9bHQEM0FZIsqDJT-Qr2KExqAMug4FP8z7w1EvPhedso3R49XUTlBCQMkHtZyrAbTFwD1OCEyGoVAtGcrYDgTmCNfysU47D319VgGTwE/s1600/DSCN2438.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>By the time Debbie arrived, I had the camper all set up and a fire going. It was drizzling rain, but the massive tree in our site kept most of the rain at bay. I grilled the Salmon, brought by Debbie, over the fire, while she used her legs as a barrier to keep Rooney from stealing our dinner. <br />
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Debbie and I could easily spend days doing nothing more than sitting by an open fire, reading, talking, laughing, eating M&M's, and enjoying the outdoors. But there were a few things in the area worth seeing. On Friday morning we took our time getting ready. It was very chilly and rainy outside. I think we both were reluctant to tell the other we really didn't want to go anywhere, so we each showered and prepared for the day ahead, reluctantly getting in the car to go explore the nearby civilization.<br />
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Our first stop was at a delightful coffee cafe in Bay Mills. Owned by an authentic Ojibwe Indian woman and aptly named "Coffee House", the ramshackle building held the promise of intrigue and treasure within. The owner proudly explained to me her ways of growing organic beans and preparing the purest cup of coffee I've ever tasted. She did not disappoint. Debbie and I enjoyed fresh bowls of soup while we surfed the internet - yes, I said internet, while <i>camping</i>, no less - for the timetables at the Soo Locks. Then, after a leisurely exploration of the local art for sale in Coffee House, we left to watch the big boats go through the time honored tradition of transferring from Lake Huron to Lake Superior through a 21' drop in the St. Mary's river. Canada lies on one side of the river, Michigan on the other. In Sault St. Marie, visitors can view the ships passing through the lock system from a platform, and the Visitor's Center provides schedules, information about each vessel, and an in-depth look at the history and construction of the locks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXr9Ejw6a7RamIDMZ9EnR4-eG8E5g3kgJJggwwCsZuFIYxz_u2pJGve_D8W53bu-wmDhPZZDHaBsLBOim7naILm8VcxfwEdufwVsf39S4tI3j3qiE48cbjUpz79_AberW5MW-fiXYTKI/s1600/DSCN2567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXr9Ejw6a7RamIDMZ9EnR4-eG8E5g3kgJJggwwCsZuFIYxz_u2pJGve_D8W53bu-wmDhPZZDHaBsLBOim7naILm8VcxfwEdufwVsf39S4tI3j3qiE48cbjUpz79_AberW5MW-fiXYTKI/s1600/DSCN2567.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>If you have never been to the Soo Locks in Sault St. Marie, it is worth the trip. While the two oldest locks are no longer in use, vessels carrying iron ore, coal, cement, limestone, grain, salt, or sand use the MacArthur Lock, built in 1943, which accommodates vessels 800ft long, 80 ft wide, and 31ft deep. The big Lakers need to use the Poe Lock, added in 1968, built 1200ft long, 110ft wide, and 32ft deep. Debbie and I were lucky enough to watch the largest vessel on the Great Lakes, the Paul R. Tregurtha,<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksutvX3AqvJHK6US6GJZSFoRFdAUR2zMGvyvqmYlwf_s_-IENkuxDd5r9mNuJrW8rXkBXhhSaMNYYW2bGB06I97qpNsU7O_pKLUOTWAmIdUvyifZm11oyqj1tel4AHF-Wp3kvtzu3NTs/s1600/DSCN2590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksutvX3AqvJHK6US6GJZSFoRFdAUR2zMGvyvqmYlwf_s_-IENkuxDd5r9mNuJrW8rXkBXhhSaMNYYW2bGB06I97qpNsU7O_pKLUOTWAmIdUvyifZm11oyqj1tel4AHF-Wp3kvtzu3NTs/s1600/DSCN2590.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>go through the Poe Lock. It was an awesome sight to see, even though we had lost all feeling in our fingers and toes and our noses were turning blue from the cold rain. We toughed it out, then walked across the street to a local bar and had a hot lunch, which had no leaves, berries, or twigs whatsoever on the menu.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLtwpZa1neuZTYNM3FeAQCrr2D6m0Rd5ujtn7jGDotEonQQ3t8bWe-qcV4OktBRFBWZPv7nqvES6GtQ4azcdj1ycQ13AYlmNPX6YeLxN0ztC1iIsbBjjEsGOCVJgu0XbheuLbQJt7TxU/s1600/DSCN2578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLtwpZa1neuZTYNM3FeAQCrr2D6m0Rd5ujtn7jGDotEonQQ3t8bWe-qcV4OktBRFBWZPv7nqvES6GtQ4azcdj1ycQ13AYlmNPX6YeLxN0ztC1iIsbBjjEsGOCVJgu0XbheuLbQJt7TxU/s1600/DSCN2578.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>We agreed that seeing the Soo Locks was a <br />
worthy experience, but we were ready to head back to the tin can for heat, naps, and dinner.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ThfWYghqaMr_E4NLeVMSGCKQd5fTBhpThReWERnGO92MDyRDmoVTdLouS0HPCS5E4xkpVYaXXCk6RE5XrpboVKt1fM-n5r_yIyJ25JExMrCQ1qHPMt54nFLmp0XO5zW58M_S6KR9DXA/s1600/DSC_7614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ThfWYghqaMr_E4NLeVMSGCKQd5fTBhpThReWERnGO92MDyRDmoVTdLouS0HPCS5E4xkpVYaXXCk6RE5XrpboVKt1fM-n5r_yIyJ25JExMrCQ1qHPMt54nFLmp0XO5zW58M_S6KR9DXA/s1600/DSC_7614.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Even though Brimley State Park isn't exactly in the wilderness, there is something about walking <br />
through the door of the tin can when you are wet, tired, and cold, feeling her warmth descend over you, and welcoming you to rest. I crawled into my bed, Debbie fought with Rooney over the couch and won, and as we drifted off to la-la land, the rain was singing a lullaby on the tin roof. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpljufyJpx6SUjZfhmn60sF-xcMWD-ySk8kVLAMJWkdkfjUNBEI__riAMLOWSkYhQw8UODE3U4oDJlpeoSh2mmBbrS369sT0bTlC5sXRMZaWHP6pes2zeG0t_Odn3aYO0fvKD3AdypOg/s1600/IMG_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpljufyJpx6SUjZfhmn60sF-xcMWD-ySk8kVLAMJWkdkfjUNBEI__riAMLOWSkYhQw8UODE3U4oDJlpeoSh2mmBbrS369sT0bTlC5sXRMZaWHP6pes2zeG0t_Odn3aYO0fvKD3AdypOg/s1600/IMG_0003.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a>When we emerged once more into the rain, Debbie, Rooney and I spent a relaxing evening by the fire, admiring the campers who strung huge tarps over their campfires while we huddled in our chairs with blankets and umbrellas. Debbie will be the first to tell you, it is hard to pour more wine when you're hanging onto an umbrella and fighting off the glowing embers that keep landing on your lap, but she rose to the challenge. We watched with some dismay as the new campers continued to arrive late into the night, setting up their rigs in the rain and cursing their spouses loudly. (That's what happens to otherwise loving couples when setting up camp in the dark and the rain while the kids are running loose, wreaking havoc). Halloween lights were being strung, dry-ice fog machines were fired up, and the general atmosphere of the campground was a spooky forest surrounding my Martha Stewart decorations. <br />
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The next day, however, and in true Kiki-Debbie form, things got much more interesting. Unfortunately, children are about to descend into my quiet writing space, so you'll have to wait to hear the rest of the story. Suffice it to say, it was a cold and blustery day, and our good friend Captain Morgan made an appearance.<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-11205225694716577662013-12-17T10:31:00.001-05:002013-12-17T10:32:35.333-05:00The Snow Day That Shouldn't Have Been<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday was not a fun day. Or it was. It depends on how you look at it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRcomqHZy96oydsFrrmVMcYMABIX5jpuf4b5SLJ4cGflTCUH0maT9zUNZ8kiLyxsTPqEYcQItf9w96qoK3M31HELMtc8Cm9P21zOfONNrbwLEh-WqSvOuaVwS3EVbS_egg0UEPBk7QvA/s1600/DSCN2701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRcomqHZy96oydsFrrmVMcYMABIX5jpuf4b5SLJ4cGflTCUH0maT9zUNZ8kiLyxsTPqEYcQItf9w96qoK3M31HELMtc8Cm9P21zOfONNrbwLEh-WqSvOuaVwS3EVbS_egg0UEPBk7QvA/s200/DSCN2701.jpg" width="200" /></a>I started my day the same way I start every week day. Up at 4:45am, prepare my hockey coach husband a cup of coffee to go, start his truck, send him off at 5:00am to hockey practice, then with a hot cup o' Joe for me, sit down at my laptop and have some fun.<br />
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I turned on the TV, because even though the most recent snowstorm had blown through on Saturday and I assumed that by Monday morning the roads would be clear and the kids would go to school, I never underestimate the power of the IIC (Idiots In Charge) to cancel school on a whim. Hmmm…two school districts north of town had already announced closings. No worries, they are rural areas, probably not plowed yet. We will have school. Definitely.<br />
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Scuba called me on his way to the rink, said the roads are clear, they will have school. Definitely.<br />
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But the "others" on Facebook disagreed.<br />
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The "others" are the hockey moms who also get up long before the sun rises to make sure their hockey players leave on time for practice, then snuggle back into bed with cell phones and tablets to have lively interactions on Facebook. I also throw my bff Debbie into the "others" category. She doesn't have a hockey player, she just never sleeps. One of the most interesting parts of my day is the early morning discussions on Facebook with the "others".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhRXfgS7WzQRGskELKPUq63xVD_IVmytctZHpgXFjWdbaLo78dlesESL22QDCapIOkUAwpJHKm9khbRUgFc_donA4kbnQO9VAT6BKYvl-zlpdbsoDHO7CNhC6ORtEmDYqvbMgHwXN64Y/s1600/DSCN2702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhRXfgS7WzQRGskELKPUq63xVD_IVmytctZHpgXFjWdbaLo78dlesESL22QDCapIOkUAwpJHKm9khbRUgFc_donA4kbnQO9VAT6BKYvl-zlpdbsoDHO7CNhC6ORtEmDYqvbMgHwXN64Y/s320/DSCN2702.jpg" width="320" /></a>But yesterday, the "others" were being very vocal about wanting a snow day. I am in the minority among moms who hate snow days. God made schools for a reason, and kids should go there 5 days a week. So with caution to push the limits without being offensive, I began a lively banter with the "others" about whether the kids should have a snow day. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Road in the U.P.</td></tr>
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They worry about their teenaged kids driving on slippery roads. I worry that we are raising a generation of kids who will believe that, even though they live in one of the northern most states in America, a few inches of snow means everything stops. The "others" wouldn't last a day in the U.P.! <br />
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At this point the TV has added a few new announcements at the bottom of the screen. I started counting school delays and closings, because there are certain rules that the IIC is supposed to follow regarding snow days. My kids go to Catholic Schools, and the general rule is that 4 other districts in our county have to have a delay or closing in order for us to follow suit. At this point, the count was 2 closed, 2 delayed, but the city schools were still open, which means we have busses. So we're still ok.<br />
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As the "others" and I continued our argument about whether our kids should go to school, one of the hockey moms posted a comment about something making noise outside her window. Though Jo was mildly concerned, she did not want to get out of her warm bed to investigate. I suggested it might be a bear, even though we have no bears this far south in Michigan. That got her going!<br />
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Now another school has announced a closing, and one more delay. But city schools are still open, and the count was at 3 closings and 3 delays, so we're good. Surely, we would have school, right?<br />
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I offered to drive over to Jo's with my camera to capture her bear in the act, but mostly to prove that the roads in her neighborhood were fine. She insisted the bus could not drive on her unplowed road. Wimps. But it was 1degree outside, and my car had 10 inches of snow piled on it, so I stayed put, eyes glued to the TV.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Road</td></tr>
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By 6:15, no announcement had been made regarding our schools, so I prepared to wake Bean and get her ready for school. 5 minutes later, they cancelled school. Really? But the roads are <i>not that bad</i>.<br />
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I was incensed, and took it out on all the "others" who were waiting, wishing, hoping for a snow day. Two minutes later, Bean sent me a text message from her bedroom asking if she could get up since she already knows school is cancelled. My day just went down the toilet.<br />
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Bean and I went to the grocery store. I drove her to another town 30 minutes away to play in the snow with a friend. I ran errands. The roads were clear, and there was absolutely <i>no reason</i> the kids should have a snow day. This bothered me so much that I couldn't get past it all day. Why aren't they in school? Who makes this decision? I want answers!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBZTvP9ajrta965TyLkBngPwYJuk7dswwN1Wn33tV6STvPLJtM4D3tp2nqvRFbBBxQRSvojGvKpGAGTCazvl7MIvBLJZMFHnPYj41wG_5dt66c94iY1RGPDCvgL2c2KrxN7AVRaktCfQ/s1600/DSC_4319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBZTvP9ajrta965TyLkBngPwYJuk7dswwN1Wn33tV6STvPLJtM4D3tp2nqvRFbBBxQRSvojGvKpGAGTCazvl7MIvBLJZMFHnPYj41wG_5dt66c94iY1RGPDCvgL2c2KrxN7AVRaktCfQ/s200/DSC_4319.jpg" width="200" /></a>I became so agitated at the spineless, nameless person who is teaching our kids to be lazy and fearful, I finally had to find a way to seek some peace. I grabbed my camera, and did what I do best; I went outside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSgEVbw8TLVjkcE7ppiWuXH66WbMzJdgN4G-trmaFcmoTcYtrk3nwOql16FabZ2g5N572MPJCwnBWjUlAZ9IkRaxE3Hk8Cveq8SYjh3L_cWQtXbVjuFMbhM7r-dwzXf1voSVh-JBddIQ/s1600/DSC_4359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSgEVbw8TLVjkcE7ppiWuXH66WbMzJdgN4G-trmaFcmoTcYtrk3nwOql16FabZ2g5N572MPJCwnBWjUlAZ9IkRaxE3Hk8Cveq8SYjh3L_cWQtXbVjuFMbhM7r-dwzXf1voSVh-JBddIQ/s200/DSC_4359.jpg" width="200" /></a>There is something special about being outside right after a snowstorm. The air is so clear and crisp, everything is blanketed in white, and sounds are muted. The quiet is complete and all senses are awake. I walked, I took pictures, I breathed. I listened, and filled myself with the clean scent, felt the cold air. It made me feel so alive! I needed my own snow day, a day to experience the elements of a Michigan winter and remember why I choose to live here. It helped me to understand that maybe the kids need a snow day, too, not to sit in a stuffy classroom and stare out the window, but to bundle up and go outside to build a snowman, jump in a snowbank, run and play, and nurture a love for nature any time of year. Bean was off with a friend, staying outside <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnICKKWNASDadi5Is1hJ8l9tF3AOj6p8l5ZR5iSiWHgLRlVLFgWeEX6GnqiGwwl6j-kvwopsaDZalH9LDtvdOkH2CVcZ8z77H264rHtrOYvHPnsJ4wiuoNyE-pWFvQolNTyIPBM68UIg/s1600/DSCN2706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnICKKWNASDadi5Is1hJ8l9tF3AOj6p8l5ZR5iSiWHgLRlVLFgWeEX6GnqiGwwl6j-kvwopsaDZalH9LDtvdOkH2CVcZ8z77H264rHtrOYvHPnsJ4wiuoNyE-pWFvQolNTyIPBM68UIg/s200/DSCN2706.jpg" width="127" /></a>and laughing, not like a teenager, but like a kid who delights in something as simple as snow. I was a solitary soul embracing the woods, the wind, the cold, and I found my peace, painted white and waiting for me to leave my footprints in its virgin ground. When you walk in the snow, you leave a message to Mother Nature that says "I was here". <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3GjC6Hw3ms9hl-dn2Cm6VEo4ykWKOzL5H4WrFIQhDz9qE1GHZ7jiNicBLgcMtunEOLykNNsyXPaZANNySyZLLJTBhVOHsp7mHZJvQz7AppQYS1GtMtHThJVTVCeci2AWuUI8xunNhtE/s1600/DSC_4343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3GjC6Hw3ms9hl-dn2Cm6VEo4ykWKOzL5H4WrFIQhDz9qE1GHZ7jiNicBLgcMtunEOLykNNsyXPaZANNySyZLLJTBhVOHsp7mHZJvQz7AppQYS1GtMtHThJVTVCeci2AWuUI8xunNhtE/s200/DSC_4343.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Later, when I picked Bean up to bring her home, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright. All the way home, I listened to her excited chatter about what she did outside all day, and she reminded me of…me. It was a good snow day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVUuVDlXJeiYi7X9bZgTu_uArUmNz7DubzQKoe1Eqi8sBfPuQ5XVJWWK_oV3fBqjw_3Dbr5UywcLaIv_5n0IHq5H8VJwRLp4qHhxGUHpPvEakYq_OSyUF4uW6OoXVAW4vLnX-aib6wlU/s1600/DSC_4340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVUuVDlXJeiYi7X9bZgTu_uArUmNz7DubzQKoe1Eqi8sBfPuQ5XVJWWK_oV3fBqjw_3Dbr5UywcLaIv_5n0IHq5H8VJwRLp4qHhxGUHpPvEakYq_OSyUF4uW6OoXVAW4vLnX-aib6wlU/s320/DSC_4340.jpg" width="320" /></a>This morning on Facebook, Jo informed me that even though we got an additional inch of snow last night, the kids would have school and her bear did not make a return appearance. All I had to do was plant the tiniest seed of thought, and I've got Jo snuggled in her bed listening for a bear that could not exist here. Ain't life grand?<br />
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I hope that today, wherever you are and whatever you're doing, you find your moment of peace. Just go outside, peace is waiting for you.<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-77199261296194624542013-12-16T11:36:00.001-05:002013-12-16T11:36:04.489-05:00Guest Post from Girly Camping: 5 Reasons You Should Go Camping<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Camping is a great and affordable way to get away, any time of year. Today, I am sharing a guest post from one of my favorite blogs, <a href="http://girlycamping.com/" target="_blank">Girly Camping</a>. The author is witty and always gives me a new insight into why I camp, sharing her own tips, gear reviews, and stories from the outdoors. In this post, she gives us the top five reasons we should go camping, whether we are experienced campers or just starting out!<br />
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5 Reasons You Should Go Camping <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit;">Posted</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit;"> </span><span class="by-author" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">by <span class="author vcard" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a class="url fn n" href="http://girlycamping.com/author/girlycamping/" rel="author" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; color: #675f34; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="View all posts by Mandie GirlyCamping">Mandie GirlyCamping</a></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit;">in</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit;"> </span><a href="http://girlycamping.com/category/camping-trips/" rel="category tag" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; color: #675f34; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="View all posts in Camping Trips">Camping Trips</a></h1>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgin8-wBvtCTmnQQ3mWV93Ixz3ea16SWylPOHS9YirW1cVfSNNc5FA67BJ9bsDUJFDO7TG3ov-_Z4XVgCIMjW-ILMOlf72lO8ZX4TnGljCuuIhrNiuVxO-xn9-pAQRHAn3_j0ajyPXVV-0/s1600/group-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgin8-wBvtCTmnQQ3mWV93Ixz3ea16SWylPOHS9YirW1cVfSNNc5FA67BJ9bsDUJFDO7TG3ov-_Z4XVgCIMjW-ILMOlf72lO8ZX4TnGljCuuIhrNiuVxO-xn9-pAQRHAn3_j0ajyPXVV-0/s320/group-campsite.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love camping! I love the outdoors! But I haven’t always been a fan! If you would of told me a few years ago I would be writing an outdoor blog, I would have laughed in your face! But I love it and I wish I would have discovered that a lot sooner! Here are 5 reasons you should go camping:<span id="more-1157" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></div>
<ol style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0px 0px 23px 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<li style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Being one with nature. </strong>Have you ever taken a hike… like a real hike into the mountains? Its beautiful and peaceful! You really start taking a look at the beauty around you! And bring your camera along! You’d be surprise at the rad pictures you take! I know there’s an inner photographer inside!</li>
<li style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Exercise.</strong> One thing great about being outside is the exercise you get! Get moving by hiking in to a spot, setting up your tent, going for a hike, playing games- there are tons of things to do outside! I find being outside makes me motivated to not be lazy!</li>
<li style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Quiet time.</strong> If you run out of things to do, just relax! Turn that cell phone off, put the iPod away, and just soak it up! You work hard anyways- you deserve a break and some peace and quiet! Listen to the river running, breeze blowing through the trees, crickets chirping, the bears growling- just kidding! But the other stuff is pretty awesome <img alt=":)" class="wp-smiley" src="http://s0.wp.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif?m=1129645325g" style="-webkit-box-shadow: none; background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-shadow: none; height: auto; left: -4px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; vertical-align: baseline;" /></li>
<li style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Its cheap.</strong> Ok, let me rephrase that- its cheaper than planning a vacation and once you get your gear, its practically free every time! We save money by going camping on the weekends rather than going out with friends and eating at restaurants!</li>
<li style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Rekindle that relationship.</strong> My favorite part about camping is sitting around the camp fire talking about good old times and discussing life! No distractions- just conversation. Its something we don’t see too often any more and we so desperately need!</li>
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Happy Camping!!</div>
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Be sure to check out Mandie's blog, <a href="http://girlycamping.com/" target="_blank">Girly Camping</a>, for more stories. </div>
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-79420653687570622392013-12-11T10:25:00.002-05:002013-12-11T10:25:25.714-05:00A Dusting of Snow Is Not A Weather Situation!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We have a weather prediction for 1-2" of snow tonight. The kids will probably get a Snow Day tomorrow.<br />
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Really? Yup. Two years ago, my kids got a Snow Day in March when it was 40 F and raining. But give us a half-inch of ice on the road, and school is not cancelled. I like to refer to this phenomenon as "The IIC Effect".<br />
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IIC is an acronym for "Idiots In Charge". I don't know who the nameless, faceless people are who make the decision to cancel school because of weather, but I do know they gather in a dark room in the wee hours of the morning and play a Russian Roulette game to make their determination. A roll of the dice, a spin of the wheel, and a life-altering choice is made by Lady Luck whether to let the kiddies go to school that day.<br />
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That must be the case, because there is no rhyme or reason to the qualifying factors for a snow day. I can say this, though, with certainty; a dusting of snow is <i>not</i> a weather situation. Yet the IIC goes into a blind panic as soon as the white stuff starts to fall, and cancels school.<br />
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I know the arguments I'll get from other moms. They say young drivers should not be on the road, they just want to keep their kids safe. But if young drivers never drive on slippery roads, how will they learn to drive on slippery roads? Ten years from now, will we live in a nation where everything shuts down all winter because nobody knows how to drive? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeEn3x0KufxQiNRcBQzueV7jIMLUSgTft8kWvpEZmDLnWKkbRxjeN_7rum8_Xd-el5nUDaH3o36aVNtBnDupW-wLrHIUM5RBhVBcsHZ52Tcv_8mrMRz6ZhaY54xPb2nFakCF7akUR3W0/s1600/Snowmobile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeEn3x0KufxQiNRcBQzueV7jIMLUSgTft8kWvpEZmDLnWKkbRxjeN_7rum8_Xd-el5nUDaH3o36aVNtBnDupW-wLrHIUM5RBhVBcsHZ52Tcv_8mrMRz6ZhaY54xPb2nFakCF7akUR3W0/s320/Snowmobile.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbkHxeNIxMbaPQr74kliRsNSabInjqscAPCqJcuZM_k9GQrFycFu8O6mbLB_lhhLw9dqwlyrQWXPmKuk9VOD5uqrQaQ8tVOKmuihTB1FzbVMVlsIGTK1Im-F9_knCbwUobRszOGzIduw/s1600/Models.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbkHxeNIxMbaPQr74kliRsNSabInjqscAPCqJcuZM_k9GQrFycFu8O6mbLB_lhhLw9dqwlyrQWXPmKuk9VOD5uqrQaQ8tVOKmuihTB1FzbVMVlsIGTK1Im-F9_knCbwUobRszOGzIduw/s200/Models.jpg" width="200" /></a>My biggest problem with this argument, though, is the fact that when school gets cancelled for a Snow Day, all those young drivers get in their cars and drive to <i>my</i> house. It's my own fault. I created a winter wonderland at my house, with snowmobiles and an ice rink and ample opportunities for the girls' "pretend-model" photo shoots. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_kdTvaUWiPeJK0_EB62NHAgCLUs_a3GKOioD4oMOFcjxomvvglHsQ7yNiaiCok_8FNW8LEUfSv5nMayq9Gqowa4AVoR2p4EMm3gbiHqgS2yprArp9thX89JTXC8TP3SK3qs3yO30knU/s1600/1978blizzard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_kdTvaUWiPeJK0_EB62NHAgCLUs_a3GKOioD4oMOFcjxomvvglHsQ7yNiaiCok_8FNW8LEUfSv5nMayq9Gqowa4AVoR2p4EMm3gbiHqgS2yprArp9thX89JTXC8TP3SK3qs3yO30knU/s320/1978blizzard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blizzard of '78<br />Google Images</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We don't get as much snow now as we did when I was a kid. I still vividly remember the Blizzard of '78, when the record-low barometric pressure of 955 created the perfect scenario for 16.1 inches of snow to fall in one day. It continued snowing for 3 days. My dad attached the snowplow to our Jeep and pushed all the snow in our parking lot into one corner, building a giant snow mound which towered over the garage roof and beckoned us to play. My cousins and all the neighborhood kids came over, and using shovels we dug the most incredible maze of snow tunnels through the mound. Then we packed the snow down hard on top and designed an elaborate series of slides. We played King of the Mountain, Eskimos, and Bobsledding. I stayed out all day. When my mother finally made me come inside after dark, I limped up the stairs because I had not been able to feel my toes since noon. I took my boots off, and as my toes began reacting to the warm air, I experienced pain like I had never felt before. I literally wanted my mother to take a butcher knife and just cut my toes off. It was the best day ever.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUghV29FKxNrxPnvRDNEqiwYI4k9XwuyHrxEkpwYsedUyGG3lMtxyt2kCpFRqty93FDvSDjOI4PdC3V9kIr5-wl_blwE-lTQ3y6wloUN-mhAPA8mbWX7kD2c1HFLN0Rs33h9qdMNPABg/s1600/Snowman-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUghV29FKxNrxPnvRDNEqiwYI4k9XwuyHrxEkpwYsedUyGG3lMtxyt2kCpFRqty93FDvSDjOI4PdC3V9kIr5-wl_blwE-lTQ3y6wloUN-mhAPA8mbWX7kD2c1HFLN0Rs33h9qdMNPABg/s200/Snowman-2.jpg" width="118" /></a><i>That</i> was a snow day. These days, when all the kids descend upon my peaceful home, they have to completely clear the front yard of it's 2" of snow just to build a snowman. That's not a snow day. Its an irritating day.<br />
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But today the weatherman will issue a Winter Weather Advisory for 1-2" of snow, and tonight the grocery store will have long lines of moms stocking up for the big snow day tomorrow. Snacks, hot chocolate, and big steaming pots of chili will adorn kitchen tables everywhere while moms wear out the dryers trying to keep the kids' mittens and socks dry. Adults will be texting each other to talk about how bad the roads are. Kids will play outside all day and make a mess of the yard and drip dirty snow on the mudroom floor and post thousands of pictures on Instagram that all look the same: "Here we are, not in school, playing in the snow even though the grass is still peeking through."<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRS1G271ErPvbnWaCuLu2jbSLUZxF8FCjH8VRrtB-pd18uqpH-WTYrB-QqA0dHCTOjxdopueh7IRqZh3VUY4NMcZkh_mUhoVu15JJ9aO0jNrF9iBrCiMeE7fMLRoPCBEz5Feb-KN9BcU/s1600/Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRS1G271ErPvbnWaCuLu2jbSLUZxF8FCjH8VRrtB-pd18uqpH-WTYrB-QqA0dHCTOjxdopueh7IRqZh3VUY4NMcZkh_mUhoVu15JJ9aO0jNrF9iBrCiMeE7fMLRoPCBEz5Feb-KN9BcU/s200/Snow.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be careful out there folks!</td></tr>
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This dusting of snow we are supposed to get tonight is going to wreak havoc in my busy schedule. But what do I know? I bow down to the IIC who, in its wisdom, makes decisions based on fear of lawsuits and designed to foster a generation of people scared to leave their homes in the Winter. The next generation of movers and shakers will be unable to cope with northern winters. I hope Florida has room for all of them.</div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-86537620548364220232013-12-03T18:10:00.000-05:002013-12-03T18:10:05.060-05:00Fixing the Christmas Lights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's a tradition. Every Thanksgiving weekend since I was a child, the house was decorated for the Christmas season. Long before Black Friday, we had Twinkle Friday, a magical day when all the clear mini lights suddenly adorn the trees, fireplace, and wreaths. I <i>love</i> decorating my house for Christmas on Twinkle Friday.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDZaLJPEfuy4AcXsHQCPYjrtdd0J0xCnzwZjIWjqzPzDIeYm0CPB3SvJKELaSMrhQ6fSjAPZ90MtOeyNNVPZWI82jCBxw0-p7benwt8sfeI6zTgVCPuxXl4LH8TiUl9gZ66GlST7_3u8/s1600/DSCN2677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDZaLJPEfuy4AcXsHQCPYjrtdd0J0xCnzwZjIWjqzPzDIeYm0CPB3SvJKELaSMrhQ6fSjAPZ90MtOeyNNVPZWI82jCBxw0-p7benwt8sfeI6zTgVCPuxXl4LH8TiUl9gZ66GlST7_3u8/s320/DSCN2677.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
This year as I pulled all the boxes and totes out from the basement, I realized it has been quite some time since we bought any new decorations. While I decorated, it occurred to me that it <i>really is time</i> to get some new decorations. Only this time, my husband is banned from Christmas decoration shopping.<br />
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A few years ago, I asked my husband to build me a manger for the nativity set. He took an old rose trellis, broke it in half, and stapled burlap to it. The burlap does not fare well outdoors.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_HRPMP0eyHMmI05tEPrtuWuJXtldWbYM1ODUriIUbszRCKdwsd_20kvp6SnHWIJldjBjo5gsS000St68-phtOZcI20DBketVdtsUFEifkeeGCdGqoWpbM6dqxhyphenhyphenx-uXtAEtsZIa5jdU/s1600/DSCN2695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_HRPMP0eyHMmI05tEPrtuWuJXtldWbYM1ODUriIUbszRCKdwsd_20kvp6SnHWIJldjBjo5gsS000St68-phtOZcI20DBketVdtsUFEifkeeGCdGqoWpbM6dqxhyphenhyphenx-uXtAEtsZIa5jdU/s200/DSCN2695.jpg" width="200" /></a>Then there's the tote in the basement full of strings of lights that no longer work. It's been sitting there since November 1998, when my husband told me not to buy any new lights, because he could fix those. Every year I have fewer and fewer lights outside. Still waiting…<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiro26i1CzJvEc8vznPFtG3qc3xZfSEzdDVLxckZnUw3R9dn1-fMmOLJ0o7vpPty9ZFyeuqSj3d_nXdxXr84Pa0EWUcZ9Zq0OtNl3OMe-kFHnaAdzhRNXFvkPU6MX9gGunp3LvX-sbcOZM/s1600/DSCN2668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiro26i1CzJvEc8vznPFtG3qc3xZfSEzdDVLxckZnUw3R9dn1-fMmOLJ0o7vpPty9ZFyeuqSj3d_nXdxXr84Pa0EWUcZ9Zq0OtNl3OMe-kFHnaAdzhRNXFvkPU6MX9gGunp3LvX-sbcOZM/s200/DSCN2668.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDB9zsvZvOkMnBI8dSBA9ad2tqIzKXpvO_nYtnrbSBHR_fbySoPfxQLKz48zKGyUpkFPnH90KF9-SONyB-HTAlIwEqUbhAsyLrZCXJnq6w80XXRgvcgHQbRHqL2anlds9q5hm8iK5UDI/s1600/DSCN2675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDB9zsvZvOkMnBI8dSBA9ad2tqIzKXpvO_nYtnrbSBHR_fbySoPfxQLKz48zKGyUpkFPnH90KF9-SONyB-HTAlIwEqUbhAsyLrZCXJnq6w80XXRgvcgHQbRHqL2anlds9q5hm8iK5UDI/s200/DSCN2675.jpg" width="200" /></a>A couple of years ago Scuba bought a really cute light-up snowman for my courtyard. After one year, the lights no longer worked. So I pulled them all off, and tried to re-string the snowman with new lights. By day, he's a cheery friend by the bonfire, but by night, he's a big blue blob of light.<br />
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Ten years ago, we bought a whole bunch of red bows at the Dollar Store to brighten up the fence. We are still using them, though the mice have apparently been using them as well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORpwd37aHIyUhUXnQDPw5Aii4qOWf9q76dZQHPHyqJnd-fV3JeS5VNdYtmIJDv4pbi2Hnc8EXAM2hfO4ePilSdy82p1ZbK5NAcxs4Str50nu_Dd3O0ePo3igl3cI_JYsEZpomwWMzXNw/s1600/DSCN2676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORpwd37aHIyUhUXnQDPw5Aii4qOWf9q76dZQHPHyqJnd-fV3JeS5VNdYtmIJDv4pbi2Hnc8EXAM2hfO4ePilSdy82p1ZbK5NAcxs4Str50nu_Dd3O0ePo3igl3cI_JYsEZpomwWMzXNw/s320/DSCN2676.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uNUzqOHOZjygmWS0h2xm_6hXSDtzsaEUTLNPQ8algJ4qLeetjo2HinsKF723S-5BD3kL9wK8F0_WyY_lBAk9c9ijatVdnEYwQXGYwd1IgGiMmAF8zYc_tNrgLwo16CxbB8FffFs_bVI/s1600/DSCN2688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uNUzqOHOZjygmWS0h2xm_6hXSDtzsaEUTLNPQ8algJ4qLeetjo2HinsKF723S-5BD3kL9wK8F0_WyY_lBAk9c9ijatVdnEYwQXGYwd1IgGiMmAF8zYc_tNrgLwo16CxbB8FffFs_bVI/s200/DSCN2688.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5YZqboTWUw3b2M2oipWvm64OhXr_SITOw3m2XKg71gCYDWDIV-FZF09Mf-ddqODWq6j5HtPs9ehCa3FOwXtjs_v31nXffzFpZ_p6xmXUr_hkF_qFfpjZWadIbXmqaxyPqPJX0pXinm8/s1600/DSCN2682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5YZqboTWUw3b2M2oipWvm64OhXr_SITOw3m2XKg71gCYDWDIV-FZF09Mf-ddqODWq6j5HtPs9ehCa3FOwXtjs_v31nXffzFpZ_p6xmXUr_hkF_qFfpjZWadIbXmqaxyPqPJX0pXinm8/s200/DSCN2682.jpg" width="200" /></a>I was delighted a few years ago when Scuba brought home a beautiful indoor nativity scene for the living room. But then my daughter dropped one of the Wise Men, and his hand fell off. Every year when I set the nativity up, I glue his hand back on, and every year, it falls off the next day. Nowhere in the Bible does it reference a handicapped Wise Man, but we have one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuDXAVHOX3QGutLsFs0q9eTyFVSKNZ_nxIS0ioLcllZLzJzAwMf-YVYflNotXY855iae_Tvk8MIu5U50FPQJs6Ps2MqXtGUu3WI9uBUcTG78I1UOVyjwcWKZJKLqiSqzG088CNwxfKZ4s/s1600/DSCN2691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuDXAVHOX3QGutLsFs0q9eTyFVSKNZ_nxIS0ioLcllZLzJzAwMf-YVYflNotXY855iae_Tvk8MIu5U50FPQJs6Ps2MqXtGUu3WI9uBUcTG78I1UOVyjwcWKZJKLqiSqzG088CNwxfKZ4s/s200/DSCN2691.jpg" width="200" /></a>Likewise with the ceramic Elf's feet. I have a very old and beautiful set of four ceramic elves that I inherited from my late grandmother. When my son was young, he was playing with them and dropped the standing elf. The footless Elf has to lean against the hearth now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnQy7M7ejVAfGwxWa-ee97YN1GsqmztQ4Rp7ZWrRVcARtAEMAlfwDURxRs-Iqelzv9YycYMEoQ6IoxJB7AMzsd4MjemeB4cOTEyaz2MT06p87nkhQ0tPIXO8Ycxh0LA6H3SUYX4Ev40o/s1600/DSCN2694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnQy7M7ejVAfGwxWa-ee97YN1GsqmztQ4Rp7ZWrRVcARtAEMAlfwDURxRs-Iqelzv9YycYMEoQ6IoxJB7AMzsd4MjemeB4cOTEyaz2MT06p87nkhQ0tPIXO8Ycxh0LA6H3SUYX4Ev40o/s320/DSCN2694.jpg" width="320" /></a>Last year I bought new table decorations, which include little sparkly styrofoam balls. The cat never even noticed them last year, but this year, she won't leave them alone. I find styrofoam balls with little teeth marks in them under the table, in the living room, the sunroom, and unless our cat lays golden eggs, I'm pretty sure I scooped one out of the litter box this morning. <br />
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These are all things I can live with (though I'm not sure the cat can). The minor marks on decorations that have been used and enjoyed by my family for years just make them that much more endearing. However, I have to draw the line with Ralph and Stella.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Mv9pAudNQUiMmgbz0ohB1JPpOOPFK_J6LVX68KsnHNWr3OD02zFqdhE7TOX4U4NokVhHvxOuyCJdrKZz8HaeJJumhlyrIdSUL2LqfdER3ydPMw0OQDiwKu5PaOMoRbl0pwmVbMTZD_c/s1600/Elf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Mv9pAudNQUiMmgbz0ohB1JPpOOPFK_J6LVX68KsnHNWr3OD02zFqdhE7TOX4U4NokVhHvxOuyCJdrKZz8HaeJJumhlyrIdSUL2LqfdER3ydPMw0OQDiwKu5PaOMoRbl0pwmVbMTZD_c/s200/Elf.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Images</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Remember <a href="http://www.elfontheshelf.com/" target="_blank">The Elf on the Shelf</a>? I sent Scuba out to buy the beloved elf with the storybook. Even though our kids are not little anymore, I thought it would be fun to hide the little elf each day and watch them look for him. But Scuba didn't buy The Elf on the Shelf. He came home with Ralph and Stella instead.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPNpctavXEF2TcDCZXe_thLgd5mBiHoXZBqbbgbr6S3gKNtbmIUOugXOWMD98B-e9B2yjYvSoCVl34ssGsCN32tePLUVR15RtGActQtLlR8-iTuLl4iX7pRgpsjmjWWBEepKieUSUYzA/s1600/DSCN2680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPNpctavXEF2TcDCZXe_thLgd5mBiHoXZBqbbgbr6S3gKNtbmIUOugXOWMD98B-e9B2yjYvSoCVl34ssGsCN32tePLUVR15RtGActQtLlR8-iTuLl4iX7pRgpsjmjWWBEepKieUSUYzA/s320/DSCN2680.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Maybe my husband is conducting an experiment to see if he can <br />
introduce an unreasonable fear of Christmas in our children. If so, it's working. Hiding Ralph and Stella is not as easy as a tiny little elf. Add to that the fact that Ralph and Stella are just plain creepy and you have the perfect scenario to induce nightmares and cold sweats every time "Jingle Bells" is heard. <br />
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I fear that Ralph and Stella may meet with an unfortunate accident in the near future. Their days are numbered, folks. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgEUEuByse4KwLcAW4-7n-dzVlAIHXqeXEhVm8grjADxSOdOz8ckkn46dszuAkFhhCXqr3Vurun_sADyPTEXLtGJ5m9OiKvDhAKNv7x_YziCpz2hrY8AqTbhAUNcEaIUKHukJW7EMd2w/s1600/DSCN2696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgEUEuByse4KwLcAW4-7n-dzVlAIHXqeXEhVm8grjADxSOdOz8ckkn46dszuAkFhhCXqr3Vurun_sADyPTEXLtGJ5m9OiKvDhAKNv7x_YziCpz2hrY8AqTbhAUNcEaIUKHukJW7EMd2w/s400/DSCN2696.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I think next year, on Twinkle Friday, the kids and I are going to <a href="http://www.bronners.com/?&utm_campaign=lv13&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=gad" target="_blank">Bronners</a> to buy a few new decorations. Scuba can stay home and fix the lights.<br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-88480448258149615712013-11-26T10:09:00.001-05:002013-11-26T10:09:37.045-05:00Echo of the Woods<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I hike alone. The woods teach me things about myself every time I go down a trail, or wander off trail. Alone, I have learned that I am stronger than I thought. I know things in a deep place in my mind, and after a fourteen mile hike when it feels like I will never live without pain again, the pain will go away. Eventually. The woods teach me to listen, see, and smell more intensely, and trust that I can keep going. I let the woods show me who I am, instead of who I'm scared to be.<br />
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If I hiked with others, I would not be able to see, hear, feel, and learn without distractions. Some of the lessons would be lost. So I hike alone. Which is why I wasn't particularly excited to take five 13 year old girls into the woods last weekend.<br />
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When The Wise One asked for a trip up north with her friends, I searched on <a href="http://www.michigan.org/" target="_blank">Pure Michigan</a> and found <a href="http://www.cedarbendfarm.com/" target="_blank">Cedar Bend Farm</a> in Mancelona, Michigan. The Farm appealed to me because we would have the place to ourselves, we could stay in a cozy stone cottage, there are many outdoor activities available, and it is affordable. I planned the weekend, pleased that my daughter wanted an outdoor adventure. It was killing me to think I would be spending a weekend in Northern Michigan with no opportunity to hike alone. This trip was about my daughter, not me, and maybe I could teach her a thing or two about the woods.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Zqf6OP7mPv_ug0chwx41Sa4ZnVC4RcE0YPIJQJbpwkNol_93C-YJMtRaigYvR1Y2F3rJ2ZaKf6PbnAkCgAoNUReI4OKftMK437IVCnVi-Rwv5x0BDiC4ezr19FOWj0VBBr54chP_FAs/s1600/DSC_3523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Zqf6OP7mPv_ug0chwx41Sa4ZnVC4RcE0YPIJQJbpwkNol_93C-YJMtRaigYvR1Y2F3rJ2ZaKf6PbnAkCgAoNUReI4OKftMK437IVCnVi-Rwv5x0BDiC4ezr19FOWj0VBBr54chP_FAs/s200/DSC_3523.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVelYNeNQTPBsdWyDwML1MAp5MPIUgZpJs2f_JcOrDyAczHZMuEiX4Q9V_-FlXD7hjAgrhvNdH2cpKw6_YVmelDsHACZDkbk9WG_MS-RuMWRwcbhTk3TyBa8i9-XtccsmuZIe8f5qcHus/s1600/DSC_4054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVelYNeNQTPBsdWyDwML1MAp5MPIUgZpJs2f_JcOrDyAczHZMuEiX4Q9V_-FlXD7hjAgrhvNdH2cpKw6_YVmelDsHACZDkbk9WG_MS-RuMWRwcbhTk3TyBa8i9-XtccsmuZIe8f5qcHus/s200/DSC_4054.jpg" width="200" /></a>The Wise One chose her four friends wisely. What an amazing group of young girls! I never heard a single complaint, only enthusiasm for the next adventure. A snow storm blew in, it was cold and windy, yet those girls stayed outside all day, walking through the woods to the zip line, flying through the trees suspended by a harness while snow smacked their faces and froze on their eyelashes. Scuba showed them how sound echoes back to them from the top of the steep tubing hill, and a chorus of <i>hello's</i> fell with the snow. The girls rode the zip line over and over, then hiked up another steep hill to test their physical limits on the challenge course. Balance, agility, and teamwork produced more giggles, more shouts of achievement. The Wise One was fascinated with the creek that flowed freely, it's water so clear it almost got lost. She took a glove off and stuck her fingers into the stream, letting out a little scream at the frigid cold of the water. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJe80FFs1j6zBu17FDaihYGNlXX0KsUDyhski7gF0Dgddm3F4ucYqVD8BG84l6WBp2_46SlnDfi0IwvzE8iHsULadMoDDnjgYYAvGGmGn0Cg5OdASfMmc-P_cbCaTb7UY5YidsM4vplrs/s1600/DSC_3335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJe80FFs1j6zBu17FDaihYGNlXX0KsUDyhski7gF0Dgddm3F4ucYqVD8BG84l6WBp2_46SlnDfi0IwvzE8iHsULadMoDDnjgYYAvGGmGn0Cg5OdASfMmc-P_cbCaTb7UY5YidsM4vplrs/s320/DSC_3335.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCH-O2XYLTzzBWQe5bggJh0tZHNG1iulcj9318mFEHtV995jZbh6wqQoOObirNU43AA7nNrK7_90qYNgTTOtcH7NyR9CmQBjHjbHEfpxLkHwC0mtM4B-qLII1DKzGGp78ZN_smStls2Xw/s1600/DSC_3942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCH-O2XYLTzzBWQe5bggJh0tZHNG1iulcj9318mFEHtV995jZbh6wqQoOObirNU43AA7nNrK7_90qYNgTTOtcH7NyR9CmQBjHjbHEfpxLkHwC0mtM4B-qLII1DKzGGp78ZN_smStls2Xw/s200/DSC_3942.jpg" width="200" /></a>After a quick lunch, the girls went right back outside for a scavenger hunt. I heard their voices from every direction, calling out with excitement over finding a bonus item on the list. The Wise One could be heard directing the others to different areas (she can be a bit bossy; a control freak, like her mom). Then they were off to the hill to scream with delight while racing to the bottom on snow tubes. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD__uxu2doHfTsOlgV6Pbwghy9t3HUHyWK1kMkU5PsSIWGqQZ4V1A5m5vF-N076GTDQQ22xlA_6CXuchac6sLrASG7yArxLVXNcfnTQ0Uz2eISg2VXZqFz10urJn0rQb1YqKKd3K1j7GY/s1600/DSC_3558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD__uxu2doHfTsOlgV6Pbwghy9t3HUHyWK1kMkU5PsSIWGqQZ4V1A5m5vF-N076GTDQQ22xlA_6CXuchac6sLrASG7yArxLVXNcfnTQ0Uz2eISg2VXZqFz10urJn0rQb1YqKKd3K1j7GY/s200/DSC_3558.jpg" width="200" /></a>It went on all day. The girls stayed outside playing and running and shouting. When it came time to go home Sunday morning, not one of them wanted to leave. One girl declared this trip should become an annual event. Next year, the girls agreed, we should stay for a week.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBynPiJXbq1ZkOSpQSgnQqn6FZsKMnCpGkvjpvi2y4p1_F6f7AOiTmgnOXZbPQ9LDcRQJRPk9pfZ09HK_jnQagCWZJjY6SEEN3vflzsp80-6e99jeur8Hx9_vrQZhNcCnw4AmOhQFxRsE/s1600/DSC_3544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBynPiJXbq1ZkOSpQSgnQqn6FZsKMnCpGkvjpvi2y4p1_F6f7AOiTmgnOXZbPQ9LDcRQJRPk9pfZ09HK_jnQagCWZJjY6SEEN3vflzsp80-6e99jeur8Hx9_vrQZhNcCnw4AmOhQFxRsE/s200/DSC_3544.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Scuba left with the girls, but I stayed behind. I had planned all along to leave a couple of hours after them, to give myself time for a quiet hike in the woods. As I climbed up the hill under the zip line, the wind blew the branches of the bare trees against each other like strings on a violin, creating a haunting melody. It was in this moment that the woods taught me something new. For the first time ever, I was lonely in the woods. The music played by the wind was missing the sound of young girls' laughter. It was only when they were there with me that the melody became a symphony of beautiful sound echoing through the trees and wide open fields. The woods are meant to be shared.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QpiSoFP2rePsWBkWMyg4KHZjuqONUz8C_j-DCh9IWFWe_KE3KxlOhTcqPmrTy387bq6HmI0WfJ9cTK7y6zoKegNum5B46g5P4wvEWhLfUluR6hYhBj4Ld7hvSBUvCML7qxDA35PG44I/s1600/DSC_4100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QpiSoFP2rePsWBkWMyg4KHZjuqONUz8C_j-DCh9IWFWe_KE3KxlOhTcqPmrTy387bq6HmI0WfJ9cTK7y6zoKegNum5B46g5P4wvEWhLfUluR6hYhBj4Ld7hvSBUvCML7qxDA35PG44I/s320/DSC_4100.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
For the most part, I will continue my solitary walks in the woods. But I learned something about myself last weekend. There is a time for the sound of laughter and joy. I don't have to be alone to love the woods, I can share my time with others and still learn, still laugh, and still enjoy. The Wise One and her friends gave me a gift with their shouts of delight, and as I walked back to my car to leave, I swear I could still hear their echoes. <br />
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Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-54343948565763870252013-11-25T12:28:00.003-05:002013-11-25T12:29:51.649-05:00Cedar Bend Farm: Good Place, Good People, and Good Times<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It can be tough to plan the perfect weekend for your daughter's 13th birthday, especially when she is inviting her four best friends along and you are on a budget.<br />
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We tossed around ideas like a concert or musical. Maybe a Spa? The indoor waterpark had already been done by another girl. I turned to my best resource, <a href="http://www.michigan.org/" target="_blank">Pure Michigan</a>, and using the search function, found the most perfect place I could have imagined, <a href="http://www.michigan.org/property/cedar-bend-farm/" target="_blank">Cedar Bend Farm</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhG-aWpyfLZtoeOuznQk_m4qpaacrz5crrevH-8zu_LMKr69IkA38NDNmZCdeAU5GpOaAAe_TXJqfsByanxOUilAR5Nyw9hcguxZV7koFDnMwzYmLHCwlfw12MX2b932L6FhkFHW7aXc/s1600/DSC_4173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhG-aWpyfLZtoeOuznQk_m4qpaacrz5crrevH-8zu_LMKr69IkA38NDNmZCdeAU5GpOaAAe_TXJqfsByanxOUilAR5Nyw9hcguxZV7koFDnMwzYmLHCwlfw12MX2b932L6FhkFHW7aXc/s320/DSC_4173.jpg" width="320" /></a>I arrived in Mancelona, Michigan ahead of my husband and the 5 young teenage girls to set everything up for the weekend. The owners of Cedar Bend Farm, Dan and Alice, greeted me with a fire burning in the wood stove in the most delightful stone cottage. Their welcome was as warm as the fire, and as Alice described the opportunities for fun and excitement, I was amazed at how much Cedar Bend has to offer!<br />
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Dan and Alice purchased the farm about 10 years ago, after making the decision to live a more faith and family-centered life with their seven children. Originally established as a Christian Retreat Center, Dan and Alice continue that work while also exceeding their goal of providing a simple and wholesome setting for Corporate Retreats, Survival Weekends, Romantic Getaways, Family Reunions, Youth Camps, and any other idea guests can come up with, including a 13th Birthday Party. They work to plan a stay tailored to each guest's needs and wants. Dan and Alice will be as involved or as removed from guests' stay as asked. <br />
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Some of their annual groups include the Freshman class from Spring Arbor University, for a Christian Retreat. There are groups that come as missionaries to donate time and work toward renovations at the farm. Through fundraising, Dan and Alice welcome children each summer to the Dollar-A-Day Outdoor Camp. Alice told me that nothing makes her happier than to see kids discover the outdoors and learn how to run, laugh, and play in nature.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMjjnl1Y54D2vpaiiNkxsqgpffu5EdEkF4vIZhXFvJrq2bRV3ZhHDr1dGvZoRVGGJj50PJqaLS_3xrnXSS9-ivlJ_bvBWqdBD5L58w6TepKRT3lAlWhGQJLiNDxYy5mpZyTvB8NwNMZE/s1600/Ice+Cream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMjjnl1Y54D2vpaiiNkxsqgpffu5EdEkF4vIZhXFvJrq2bRV3ZhHDr1dGvZoRVGGJj50PJqaLS_3xrnXSS9-ivlJ_bvBWqdBD5L58w6TepKRT3lAlWhGQJLiNDxYy5mpZyTvB8NwNMZE/s200/Ice+Cream.jpg" width="200" /></a>For our weekend, Dan and Alice made many suggestions and helped me plan the event to keep the girls happy. When the girls arrived Friday evening, Alice joined us in our lovely cottage to teach them how to hand-churn their own ice cream. They got an idea of how hard life used to be when they had to sit on top of the handle while churning, because they weren't strong enough to hold the lid down. <br />
We later served the ice cream with birthday cake, agreeing it was the best ice cream we ever tasted!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCjYk5uIGdFGfdIQskDwdwMouVamF16X61G5kQZXUUOIJ6rYzYdJGZOcQfhfDSHHbnnxIhNXLw7FLFJTasHxAmmRcCV3YmduK1QC5ZLVGx9pWIWCk70rwb4QzhnBdvdVnrPuFoNA2rdQ/s1600/DSC_4093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCjYk5uIGdFGfdIQskDwdwMouVamF16X61G5kQZXUUOIJ6rYzYdJGZOcQfhfDSHHbnnxIhNXLw7FLFJTasHxAmmRcCV3YmduK1QC5ZLVGx9pWIWCk70rwb4QzhnBdvdVnrPuFoNA2rdQ/s320/DSC_4093.jpg" width="320" /></a>The next morning began early as Dan took my husband out to the woods to train him in the use of the zip line and challenge course. The girls walked down the lane, past the chapel, and into the woods to begin their adventure. The temperature dropped, the snow blew in, and we spent the entire day outdoors with the girls on the zip line - on which they amazed Dan by going three different times! - and testing their strength, balance, and agility on the challenge course, not realizing that they were learning how to work together to accomplish a common goal. My daughter and her friends wandered throughout the 112 acres looking for items in the scavenger hunt, then used the tubes Dan had prepared for them to race down the hills, over and over again. At night, they ran to the barn to play hockey and football. <br />
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They never stopped moving and running and playing, outdoors, from sun up until way past sun down. We all slept very well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdwnt2HTaMJaxBTsO7Dqcyox3DwwWy-GY5IiPz68JtD6383Kd68Ha9vWfekvvO31cWnfNYE5BYSWENbikSRHC5jbeSVEs9696fpdkpoc_qddf5tPh06uL_fgv16j1FQn_dcEX_Thyphenhyphen2Tw4/s1600/DSC_4135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdwnt2HTaMJaxBTsO7Dqcyox3DwwWy-GY5IiPz68JtD6383Kd68Ha9vWfekvvO31cWnfNYE5BYSWENbikSRHC5jbeSVEs9696fpdkpoc_qddf5tPh06uL_fgv16j1FQn_dcEX_Thyphenhyphen2Tw4/s320/DSC_4135.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Some parents think I'm some kind of event planning guru, but the fact is I can find any place in Michigan to suit any need simply by entering a few keywords into the <a href="http://www.michigan.org/" target="_blank">Pure Michigan website.</a> Using tags like "nature", "Northern Michigan", "outdoor activities", and "crafts", I found <a href="http://www.michigan.org/property/cedar-bend-farm/" target="_blank">Cedar Bend Farm</a>, and created an affordable and fun weekend for the girls. It was easy!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispKsDyeYybWhbFwZqjfTr1azmvy2FvFJnNgnEcc6XCS_lz5Y2pMrj5FBMOjYYECh3DkRdTR6o_AFEFPW3PwmbpX7TYbkHVP91e7Rm4IAkkzAqdPPd2na_knt1mAIDld2puG-TBElfAYk/s1600/DSC_3286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispKsDyeYybWhbFwZqjfTr1azmvy2FvFJnNgnEcc6XCS_lz5Y2pMrj5FBMOjYYECh3DkRdTR6o_AFEFPW3PwmbpX7TYbkHVP91e7Rm4IAkkzAqdPPd2na_knt1mAIDld2puG-TBElfAYk/s200/DSC_3286.jpg" width="200" /></a>If you are looking for TV, Saunas, Gourmet Meals, and luxury accommodations, look elsewhere. But if you are looking for rustic charm with basic amenities, a peaceful setting or outdoor adventures, and excellent hosts, look at Cedar Bend Farm. Dan and Alice are good people who work hard to give you the best experience you seek. They discourage excessive drinking and brazen behavior, but if you seek a quiet weekend with a loved one, Alice won't mind if you bring a bottle of wine. Don't plan on watching the Red Wings game on TV, but be prepared to play a round or two of broom ball on the frozen floor of the new barn. Anyone looking for a quiet weekend with family or friends in the summer, or an opportunity to hone your survival skills during a cold winter, or an outdoor adventure for the less adventurous, or a corporate outing, Cedar Bend Farm is an affordable place with flexible hosts who will go out of their way to make your time on their farm exactly what you want it to be.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnOodp289EoUgLlk5-pVt0QbsoIVVWEx2maDr8ctz4ETMPQIEuzM-x-u0mcAnxzeDH6Qy-tosvUnb5RSyZ2oW5-wxadI5M8BmA-qBPyRHbrPms-YqYio7JRrjNa2oxUchLyJMGtEQD1w/s1600/DSC_3335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnOodp289EoUgLlk5-pVt0QbsoIVVWEx2maDr8ctz4ETMPQIEuzM-x-u0mcAnxzeDH6Qy-tosvUnb5RSyZ2oW5-wxadI5M8BmA-qBPyRHbrPms-YqYio7JRrjNa2oxUchLyJMGtEQD1w/s320/DSC_3335.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vKC44cLiYIJKMGYHVOh268-pLx7qI1Q-x9n-HsBD8WZBV6-u_NSeaw5jLolJm_c3BzuS1_LDg5F0Asg-X2gNdp8ce-FRCr8hjW83ziSGb2t4GDdQ_IcMtbRM6TQilgijxcbjF6zvo2U/s1600/DSC_4170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vKC44cLiYIJKMGYHVOh268-pLx7qI1Q-x9n-HsBD8WZBV6-u_NSeaw5jLolJm_c3BzuS1_LDg5F0Asg-X2gNdp8ce-FRCr8hjW83ziSGb2t4GDdQ_IcMtbRM6TQilgijxcbjF6zvo2U/s200/DSC_4170.jpg" width="200" /></a>For more information, or to schedule your perfect getaway, call Alice at (231) 587-8126. Or visit the website, <a href="http://www.cedarbendfarm.com/" target="_blank">http://www.cedarbendfarm.com</a></div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4198566479097576533.post-86872741244369070202013-11-20T13:19:00.000-05:002013-11-20T13:19:14.056-05:00Dear Mother Nature: You Win<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last Sunday I prepared for the deadly storms that raced across the Midwest. When it was over, I touched base with my family members, making sure all were safe and suffered no ill-effects from the storm. Everything was fine, and I had a little <i>haha</i> moment for being smarter than Mother Nature. But she wasn't done with me yet.<br />
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Late Sunday night, my mom called and said their power had gone out. After the storm, the winds picked up and blew trees down on power lines all over our county. By Monday morning, still without power, my parents' house was getting cold, which is not pleasant for my 95 year old grandmother. In a rare moment of selflessness, I offered to pick Gran up and bring her to my house for the day. I wanted her warm and taken care of, and also thought it would be fun to spend a day with Gran. She's a pretty fun lady.<br />
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That one moment, the quick decision to do something nice, led to a series of events that would throw me so far off schedule I won't be caught up until next week. <br />
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I brought Gran to my house Monday morning, thinking I would set her up in our big Lazy Boy in front of the TV, since she has a regular schedule of shows she watches everyday. I wrapped a blanket around her, poured her a glass of Pepsi, and turned the TV on. First she asked me to turn the volume up. A little more. A little more. Just a bit more. By the time I reached volume level 70, Gran said, "that's good." It was really, really loud. Then she asked me if I could turn the heat up a bit. Certainly. I cranked the thermostat to 70 degrees.<br />
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The loud TV bothered me; I like a quiet house. No big deal, though. Gran is 95, I'm sure her hearing isn't as sharp as it used to be. I can handle one day of a loud TV. Then she called to me and asked if the heat could be turned up a little more. No problem. <br />
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This went on all morning, so that by lunch time, the thermostat was set at 78 degrees, I was wearing shorts and a tank top, and covering Gran with another blanket. All the while Andy Griffith was yelling at me from the TV. Ok, I can handle this. No big deal.<br />
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Late in the afternoon, my parents still didn't have power. I asked my husband if we could take them and Gran to a cottage on a nearby lake for the night, since we don't have an extra bed. He made the arrangements, and my mom called from work saying they would be here soon to pick Gran up. <br />
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Looking back, I can say <i>coulda shoulda woulda</i> all I want, but the fact is, I dropped the ball here. I gave my parents instructions for getting into the lake cottage, put Gran in the car, and sent them on their way. They were going to stop at their house to pack a few things, then head to the lake.<br />
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As soon as they left, I turned the TV off and forbid my husband and daughter from watching TV or talking loudly. I turned the thermostat off, put away the blankets Gran had wrapped up in, and served dinner. Ten minutes after my parents and Gran had left, the phone rang, and my mom was shouting on the other end of the line "Call 911! We all fell in the driveway!!!!" Scuba jumped in the car and took off for my parents' house, I called 911. <br />
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Both my parents and Gran ended up in the ER. I spent 6 hours there while they were bandaged up, cat scanned, x-rayed, and tended to. Gran had tripped when they got of the car, and as she fell she took mom and dad down with her. They were pretty banged up, with Gran taking the worst of it. I felt terrible. I never should have let them go their house alone. With no power, it was very dark outside. What a mess!<br />
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It was the wee hours of Tuesday morning before I was able to take them to the lake and get them tucked in for the night. When we stepped through the cottage door, I was surprised by how warm it felt and to see a fire burning brightly in the fireplace. Scuba and my daughter had driven to the cottage while we were in the ER and made up the beds, started the fire, and left the lights on for us. I could have cried at the sweetness of it.<br />
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My parents have since gotten their power back. I cleaned up the cottage, helped them get settled back at home, and brought Gran over to my house and helped her shower. She said she felt dirty from being in the ER, and I did, too, so I understood her need for a long, hot shower. <br />
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I have pretty much lost three work days this week. I'm not complaining; I am happy to take care of Gran and help my parents out. But had I been more on top of things, much of this could have been avoided. I made the mistake of thinking once the storm had passed, I didn't have to be prepared. If only I hadn't forgotten how dark it would be outside my parents' house with no power, I could have prevented Gran's bruises and cracked rib; I could have kept my dad from tearing his hand up, and kept my mom from injuring her hip. <br />
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Life happens, and I roll with it. But when stuff happens because I didn't think a situation through, I only have myself to blame. And Mother Nature.<br />
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This week has been a good reminder for me. When out in the woods and the mountains and the wilderness, Mother Nature is unpredictable and unforgiving of those who are ill prepared. I won't forget that any time soon. Prepare for the worst of Mother Nature and enjoy the best of her. And never, ever, assume she is done with you.</div>
Peace in a Tin Canhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15916688993177641832noreply@blogger.com0