Water, Water Everywhere

Posted on September 11, 2016 by Molly

We were destined to spend the day surrounded by water. The first variety came out of the sky. The weather forecast made it abundantly clear that we were going to encounter rain this morning. And it wasn't wrong. Although the skies were dry when we left, it soon began to drizzle. Rain was not far behind and continued off and on for the duration of our ride. But still, it could have been worse. The temperatures were mild enough that we didn't get cold, and the wind was light.

Our early departure worked to our advantage. By the time we arrived in Manitowoc, the rain was tapering and a strong NW wind had picked up. We both agreed that we were better off getting wet than battling that headwind. And we were glad that we had pressed onward yesterday leaving only a show trial 23 mile ride today.

Walking around the harbor in Manitowoc was pleasant and offered plenty of sights. We were fascinated by the “fishing kayaks” we saw. Powered by foot pedals and very stable, they gently maneuvered around the harbor. We even saw one such fisherman land an active, jumping fish. The Farmers Market provided a colorful contrast to the dreary day. And we were able to see the USS Cobia up close by the Maritime Museum. It is one of 28 subs built in Manitowoc that saw action in WWII. We completed our walking tour at Manitowoc Coffee, where we gradually began drying out.

The afternoon brought our second water immersion experience. In this case, we boarded The Badger and spent four hours in the midst of Lake Michgan, crossing from Wisconsin to the Michigan side. The Badger was built in 1952 to carry rail cars across the lake, which it did until 1990. Just two years later, it began its new life as a car ferry. The thick black smoke that belched from its smoke stack nearly became its downfall when new EPA regulations were enacted. However, installing an ash retention system on its coal-fired steam engines kept the ferry in business. Just this year it was designated as a National Historic Landmark, and continues to make four crossings daily in the non-winter months.

Not long after departing from Manitowoc, the skis cleared and the day became hot and sunny. We spent most of the voyage out on deck where our clothes dried quickly in the sun. I reclined in a deck chair with my book for the afternoon. And I considered it a personal victory to be able to tolerate the waves that rocked the boat from side to side.

As the day ended, we were drawn back to the water one more time. Now in Michigan, our coastline faced west. Walking back to our motel after dinner, the sky was filled with fantastic cloud formations, highlighted by the last light of the day. And there at the horizon was the sun's finale, glowing red between lake and clouds.

From the early raindrops to the sun's retreat, it dominated our day. Water, water everywhere.

Sunset over Lake Michigan - by Rich Hoeg

Cycle Touring Made Easy

Posted on September 9, 2016 by Molly

We've been doing this long enough to know. Every cycling trip has its good days and bad. Moments of pure joy and periods of frustration. Pleasant weather and drenching rain. If I could design a near-perfect day of cycling, Day 1 of our Liberation Tour would come really close. It contained all the essential elements for great cycling.

A good a send-off. Having nourished us with a hearty steak dinner and homemade morning scones, our son Carl and his wife Chelsea cheered us on as we cycled away from their Milwaukee home. Sun shining, cool breezes and at least 1200 miles in front of us, life on a bike felt great.

Safe riding. Exiting a major city can be a hassle to say the least. Not so this time. The Oak Leaf Trail eliminated all traffic and congestion as we pedaled through leafy green park-like environs. The smooth pavement and dedicated corridor gave us a speedy and protected ride out of town.

Cycling Trail. Somewhere along the way, that trail merged seamlessly into the Interurban Trail and our bike route continued, covering 37 of our 58 miles for the day. Unlike some trails this one ran straight through towns, making it more interesting than purely cycling through the woods. Somehow, the areas it skirted seemed to be more affluent and well kept than most. Pristine farms with freshly painted barns. Tidy pastures with longhorn cattle. Upscale townhomes with beautifully landscaped yards. Even the wildflowers were brilliant and well behaved. The trail was flanked by a railway on one side and massive utility poles on the other. But we had no complaints – for that very reason it was flat, easy cycling.

Scenic Views. A local cyclist in Port Washington pointed us to the Dockside Deli for our mid-morning breakfast break. Sitting outdoors under an umbrella in the mild morning temperatures while looking out over the marina with Lake Michigan beyond was nirvana. Finding healthy food choices was an added benefit. Lingering came naturally.

Leisurely sightseeing. With the miles quickly gliding by, we felt in no hurry. Posing with a lawn ornament (Is this a “Purple Cow?”). Taking in the view of the river from the bridge in Cedarburg. Checking out the river park in Sheboygan Falls. Stopping to eat an apple at the Gibbsville Orchard. Plenty of time for all that.

Delightful weather. The cool morning gave way to sunny warmth. The wind was very light and always behind us. We detected a touch of humidity and admittedly it was reaching hot by the time we finished. But who can argue with warm and dry?

We are wise enough to know this can't last. So we savor the experience and know that today cycle touring was easy. We shall see what 4 weeks of tomorrows will bring.

Three Generations of Awe

Posted on September 6, 2016 by Molly

The scene: Our cabin. A modest 3-season cottage on North Star Lake, 25 miles north of Grand Rapids MN. In the heart of the Chippewa National Forest. At night.

The time: Labor Day Weekend. Affectionately known as Same Time Next Year for our annual tradition of spending summer’s final hurrah with family and friends. For 27 successive years.

The circumstances: A display of Northern Lights.

The set-up: Arriving a day ahead of time, well before the onslaught of kids, grandkids and long-term friends, Rich and I were at the cabin in time to see an amazing display of Northern Lights. Not only did we watch them from the dock even before the sunset was complete, but soon afterwards brilliant yellow-green arcs of light shot over the cabin, from east to west. It was clearly an exceptional display, and Rich was soon off in search of more scenic landscapes to photograph. While we have an excellent view from our dock, the foreground is not interesting enough for Rich’s photographic eye.

Day 2: Another good forecast for the Northern Lights. Pondering the lack of interest off our dock, Rich lures me to be his model. In exchange for a good back rub, I am to sit motionless in a kayak in the glow of the Northern Lights should they reappear. I admit, I am a cheap hire.

Our kids and grandkids are all expected to arrive some time that evening. Just as the final car pulls into the driveway, the Aurora also makes its appearance. No time for hellos, hugs or hauling stuff into the cabin. All are urgently summoned to the dock. There we all assemble and murmur our appreciation and marvel at once. It is the first time for many. Our son-in-law has his first view at the same time as his three kids. The evening is mild, the bugs are gone for the season, and it is a magical moment.

Ever the photographer, Rich captures the multi-generational assembly. Then calls in his favors. I am launched in the kayak and given strict instructions to paddle here and hold still. Shift over there and stop. Don’t breathe. It takes numerous shots to get a single good one, but we all agree it’s stunning.

I look forward to the back rub. But even more I treasure that moment on the dock. From 14 months to 61 years of age, we all shared the same awe.

(Photos courtesy of Rich Hoeg, 365DaysOfBirds.com)

Discovering the Lost 40

Posted on September 6, 2016 by Molly

A bike ride is always better when there is a good destination. So I was thrilled when Rich proposed that we bicycle to the Lost 40. It’s not far from our cabin, but in the 26 years that we’ve owned it we have never been there. This visit was long overdue.

In 1882 intrepid surveyors camp in the November chill and swirling snow to survey the Minnesota Northwoods. Somehow, an error in their calculations places Coddington Lake about 1/2 mile further northwest than it actually lies. As a result, the timber in that area appears to be under water and is never logged. Today, those lost acres (actually 144 acres) of old growth timber are a local treasure.

The National Forest designates this as a Point of Interest. It is a very low-key attraction on a dirt road with only a sign and a parking loop marking its entrance. But the 2-mile trail through the forest is well worth a visit.

The trail is easily followed, with a wide flat surface. There are just enough informational signs to be interesting without interrupting the flow of a leisurely walk. I learn to distinguish the bark of a white pine vs a red pine. I try in vain to find the fern-like seedlings of cedar trees. I can see the effects of the rust disease brought in by imported pine species. I hug an enormous red pine. And admire a massive white pine. These trees are up to 350 years old and between 22 and 48 inches in diameter.

There is no admission fee. No visitor center. The only amenity is an upscale porta potty. The trees are the attraction. They sell themselves. We are lucky they are still there. No longer lost, they remain for us to see and appreciate. I sure enjoyed discovering them.

A Cycling Liberation Celebration

Posted on August 30, 2016 by Molly

One of our first steps in planning a cycling tour is to establish a theme, give it a name and pick a logo. In the past, the geographical location of our adventure has always been the focus. Not so this time. Our newest tour name is based on our life status. Although for all practical purposes we have been empty nesters for several years, the marriage of our third and youngest child this summer has firmly established this rank. With joyful wedding memories still vivid, we are embarking on our Liberation Tour.

Continuing our propensity to follow shoreline, this trip will take us along the coast of the three northernmost Great Lakes – Superior, Huron and Michigan. Taking advantage of our son Carl’s home in Milwaukee, we will depart from there and make our way by ferry over to lower Michigan. We plan to travel the perimeter of the “mitten” with a foray into the UP to explore Mackinac Island, Whitefish Bay and Drummond Island. When we return to Wisconsin, we hope to detour into Door County for our first visit to that scenic peninsula.

Per normal we have no detailed plans, only a vague route. Daily distances and lodging will be decided the night before, based on terrain, weather conditions, sightseeing options and whim. We haven’t done much research into how challenging (read “hilly”) this route might be. Rich is convinced it will be flat. Compared to Scotland, that’s bound to be true. We look forward to a US tour once again, where we can follow our natural cycling rhythm minus any cultural differences.

Time and distance are pretty fluid. The route is roughly 1250 miles, and we are allowing 4-5 weeks. We’ve always had good luck cycling in September with fewer tourists on the road and still-mild temperatures. And we are prepared for chillier days should we delve very far into October. For someone who is normally highly scheduled, I look forward to the flexible nature of this trip.

Our trademark custom jerseys have arrived. The bikes are in the shop for their pre-trip tune-up. I have my trusted detailed packing list. It’s just a matter of dragging the panniers out of the closet and corralling all our gear. The kids are well established in good jobs and happy marriages. We’re ready for the Liberation Celebration to begin!

Letting Go

Posted on August 28, 2016 by Molly

We haven’t lived there for four years. Firmly established in Duluth, we use the townhouse only for brief visits to the Twin Cities. Even our grandkids call it “Erik’s townhouse” as he’s been its primary occupant. Now that he’s married, it’s time to sell.

It should be easy. It never really became home to us, as we transitioned to Duluth within a year of buying it. It carries no family history. It doesn’t have any claim on our heartstrings. We don’t need any of its furnishings or personal possessions. Crucial items made their way north long ago or been replicated there. Clearing the place out should be straightforward.

And yet, it’s hard. It’s not the physical work of packing things up and moving them. It’s the decisions. What to keep. What to get rid of.

I thought we’d dealt with all that when we downsized from our family home to the townhouse. True, that was a thorough house cleaning, sorting and tossing act. We did divest ourselves of a great deal of paraphernalia that we had saved over the years just because we had the space for it. But even then I deferred some decisions. I squirreled things away to deal with later. And later is now.

I’m pretty certain that this malady is confined to the female gender. Rich is far more dispassionate about the whole business. If it were up to him, he’d just clear the place out wholesale. So it’s up to me to go through every item, agonize over what to do with the precious baby clothes, the matching Christmas outfits I made for our kids, the Easter eggs I decorated as a kid, the wedding gifts we no longer use but still carry memories of those who selected them for us. That large oval portrait of great-grandma Julia. It’s hard to part with family heirlooms that no longer fit our lifestyle or decor. My efforts to will the kids into wanting them are fruitless. I’m disappointed but not surprised.

The process is stressful. “Are you still married?” a friend asks following one of our packing trips. How did she know? Nerves frayed, we snap at each other as boxes fill and piles mount for the U-Haul. Sleep is fitful and I feel more tired than when training for a marathon.

They are only things. I like the idea of simplifying and streamlining. In theory. But I’m grateful I don’t have to be there when the Empty the Nest service packs up and carries off the unwanted contents of the townhouse. Seeing the place empty at the end of the day is not as hard. And I console myself with the thought that they will re-purpose as many of the items as possible. I’m glad to see the process completed, and focus on moving forward.

But I’ll be honest. It’s still hard to let go.

Wedding Finery 2.0

Posted on August 27, 2016 by Molly

Two sons. Two summers. Two weddings. Two entirely different celebrations. But the same flower girl and ring bearer for both. And the same seamstress – me.

Each wedding clearly reflected the individual tastes of the respective brides (let’s be honest here, they do set the tone!). As the plans unfolded this year, it became clear that Katie and Erik’s wedding would be a formal and elegant affair. Glitter and sparkles also reigned. It seemed only fitting to dress the little attendants accordingly. I was up for the challenge, and Katie loved the idea.

I started with the flower girl dress. Eager to impress Mya with her finery, I showed her the pattern. Big mistake. She was excited all right. “I want the purple dress!” she exclaimed. What you have to understand is that 4-year-old Mya is very strong willed. And doesn’t forget. That phrase would haunt me up until the day of the wedding.

The simple looking dress on the pattern disguised its complexity. In addition to a silk skirt with an organza overlay, it also entailed a double-layer petticoat and lining underneath. But it was well designed, and those additional features clearly distinguished it as a special dress. The extra effort was well worth it.

The defining detail came about fortuitously. Needing extra fabric to alter one of the bridesmaid dresses, there was enough left over for a sash to trim Mya’s dress. That not only tied it perfectly into the wedding party, but gave the dress the zip it needed. Struggling to get it to tie into a nice bow in the back, I turned to glitz and Hobby Lobby. Using a diamond studded buckle and pin back, I fashioned a fitting anchor for the sash in the back of the dress.

If one dress is good, two is even better. Although not part of the wedding party, I saw no reason that baby sister Isabel should not match her big sister.

Next I turned my attention to 6-year-old Ben. His attire was to be a suit that I carefully matched to the fabric and style of the rented tuxes for the groomsmen. To be honest, I did briefly inquire as to the viability of renting a suit for Ben. But the $200 cost quickly sent me back to my sewing machine with renewed determination.

I had made one tailored suit coat before, and relied on knowing that I had once mastered the required techniques. I soon learned that sewing for little people presents its own challenges, creating the same level of detail on a much reduced scale. Slacks with a fly front and side pockets was new to me, and went together quite nicely. However, the trick came in scrunching the waist down to Ben’s skinny measurements. With multiple try-on sessions and Ben’s patience, I finally got it right.

Glittery hair bows, tie, and pocket hankie completed the ensembles. I finished all my machine sewing with only a few hand details left just over a week before the wedding. And that night the big storm tore through Duluth and took out the power – for four days! That was a close call.

Wedding morning, Mya dons her dress under protest at first. But finally overcomes her objections when Katie whispers that she wants her to “look just like her” in a white dress. Ben asks Daddy to get him dressed in the room with the groomsmen, and emerges looking just like the rest of the guys. Isabel, wisely, is outfitted in her dress at the last minute. And I’m swelling with pride at seeing them in their wedding finery for the second time. Then I turn my attention to being Mother of the Groom. It is, after all, Erik’s wedding day.

A Metro Century Ride

Posted on August 25, 2016 by Molly

We live in the beautiful wilderness of the cool Northland. So why would we want to cycle 100 miles through the urban metropolis in the southern climes of Minnesota? The answer is unclear, but Myra has her heart set on traversing the cycling trails across the Twin Cities. I managed to fend off her desires last year, but ultimately succumb to her pleas. We schedule our 5th annual Century Ride.

I should have saved myself the anxiety. For every one of my arguments against the locale, we are delivered perfection. Following a string of hot humid weather, storms blow through and the day dawns crisp and clear at 56 degrees, never climbing above a sunny 74. We manage an early start and cross the city in the quiet of a Sunday morning, unencumbered by traffic. When my rear tire suddenly blows only 16 miles into the ride, an angel appears in the form of a passing cyclist who generously helps me (read “does it for me”) change the tube. Feeling nervous about the accompanying gash remaining in my tire, we discover the bike shop we passed just 2 miles back is opening in 5 minutes. And to think we almost took a different route through town.

The best part of the trip is exploring the plethora of bike trails throughout the Twin Cities. Starting in Plymouth, we make our way into Minneapolis via the Luce Line Trail then onto the Midtown Greenway. Reaching the Mississippi River, we travel many miles along its banks on the West River Parkway and Sam Morgan Regional Trail. The splendid river views and gawking at the palatial homes keep us well entertained.

Downtown St. Paul presents the only area where we have to navigate city streets. We had done our research and identified a viable route, only to discover that the main bike-friendly street is under construction. But with a bit of dithering and the aid of Google Maps we identify a reasonable alternative, and survive the experience.

Our eastern destination and the mid-point of our ride is Stillwater, and those 20 miles are sweet. Three more trails take us there, the Bruce Vento Trail, Gateway State Trail and Brown’s Creek State Trail. Each is more rural than the next, with Brown’s being the newest trail with a delightfully smooth surface. Coasting downhill the final two miles into Stillwater is easy going, and the return climb back up is barely perceptible. While not crowded, we share the trail with groups ranging from hard core cyclists to families out enjoying the beautiful Sunday afternoon.

We reverse our route for the return trip, although there are several opportunities to vary the journey. And everything looks different when viewed from the opposite direction. Naturally, we take time out for a DQ break. With nearly 1.5 hours lost to my flat tire and the putsy time it took to cross St. Paul, we don’t finish our trek until just after 7pm. But on such a beautiful day we aren’t complaining.

Our final distance is 106.7 miles. With bits and pieces of other trails in between the main ones, we covered 12 different bicycle trails. And only 4 miles were on the city streets of St. Paul. Even I have to admit, it was a darned good metro century ride.

Farewell Towering Pine

Posted on August 17, 2016 by Molly

It's been almost four weeks since the storm raged through Duluth. Waking in the early morning hours to blinding lightning, constant thunder and howling winds did little to prepare us for the devastation that we would find when dawn came. And even then, we couldn't even imagine the true extent of the damage.

We were among the fortunate. With just three moderate sized trees down in our yard, only our driveway was temporarily blocked. But heartbreak was only a short distance away. Our neighbors lost several venerable old trees, including our very favorite pine tree that dominated the skyline and was perfectly framed in our window. In its place we saw only jagged shards where the trunk had snapped, sending the majestic tree down into the woods below.

A bike ride around the neighborhood revealed further ruins. Everywhere I looked there were downed trees – in yards, on houses, clobbering fences, blocking streets, dragging down power lines. The strangest site was a tree that had been launched 50 feet across a yard to pierce the roof of the house and exit through the end wall. And yet, the apples on the tree below had its produce blown to the ground in the opposite direction.

That tour was early in the morning, and already people were out working. Neighbors helping neighbors, city crews acting quickly to reopen roads, strangers swapping stories. The camaraderie would continue throughout the lengthy power outage that ensued, as we all learned to cope with being off the grid and generous offers of help came from friends outside the “war zone.”

By now, many of us have returned to life as usual. But the landscape is forever changed, and the massive clean-up effort continues. Sometimes that comes in unusual forms. And I shouldn't have been surprised when our neighbors topped that list. Enterprising, outdoorsy, optimists and just plain good folk, they turned their misfortune into opportunity. She calls it “making lemonade.” He calls it building a sauna.

The big red portable lumber mill appeared on the lawn early in the morning. And so did a couple of operators. Soon the trunk that was once that big old pine tree made it onto the bed of the mill, and the cab passed back and forth turning it into planks and posts. It made for marvelous entertainment as I sipped my morning coffee on our deck.

One of these days, when the sauna heats up and steam releases the pine smell, that giant of a tree will be immortalized. It seems very fitting. For in the process of cutting it into logs, they managed to count its rings. 240. It started growing the very year our country began. I am in awe.

I always knew it was a special tree. I just didn't realize how special. It took a mighty storm with winds over 100 mph to bring it down. I will miss its dominating presence in our window. But I'm glad to live next door to folk who are engineering a way for it to live on. Farewell old towering pine.

Artful Cycling

Posted on August 13, 2016 by Molly

The weather is definitely not what I envisioned. Instead of clear blue skies and sunshine, the world is shrouded in fog with dense clouds. But the radar map shows no storms, so I stay the course despite the conditions. If I waited for good weather, I’d miss out on a lot of adventures.

My plan is to combine a favorite 50-mile cycle route with friendship, coffee and art. The first leg of my journey is my inland route to Two Harbors. With each turn of my pedals, the air gets wetter and my visibility shrinks. My glasses further obscure my view by collecting mist and drips from my helmet. I eventually abandon them, figuring a bit of blur is preferable to near blindness. But it’s calm, not raining and the temperature is very comfortable for cycling. And I love the quiet of an early morning ride.

My first destination is a new combination cyclery/coffee shop, SpokeNGear. Joan is already there waiting for me and within moments, I am convinced that the advance publicity doesn’t do it justice. The modern décor of the coffee shop is uncluttered and inviting, flanked by soaring windows overlooking the woodlands. Anyplace with good scones is a winner in my book, and I can truly taste the lavender in my raspberry and lavender scone that accompanies my latte. An hour passes quickly as we visit in the welcoming space. Before leaving, a staff member from the bike shop graciously tightens some bolts on my bike that the Northland’s bumpy roads had worked loose.

Coffee and friendship established, it’s time to move on to art. The Art Fair in Two Harbors is sandwiched between local businesses on the main street. Numerous booths offer a wide variety of crafts and art, and it is always more fun to browse with a friend. We complete our circuit with our wallets in tact, but enriched by the visual displays of talent and each other’s company.

Miraculously, by then the gloomy morning has been transformed into the sunny day I visualized. With the sun warming the slight wind off the lake, I fly down the Scenic Highway. The scenery is classic North Shore with the deep blue lake contrasting against the greenery of the trees and the rugged rocky shoreline. I can’t help but feel the good fortune of living where we are surrounded by such beauty.

Just a mile from home and with my odometer already registering 51 miles, I reach Brighton Beach and the Art Festival. There I find booths spread out along the shoreline, featuring 40 selected artists. Having the Big Lake as the backdrop enhances the appeal of the art. It invites lingering, considering, and in my case, yes, buying.

It’s a good thing I didn’t cave in to the whims of the weather gods. It’s the sunny part of the day that will stick in my mind. Along with the coffee, the friendship and the beauty of the shore. Art is in the eye of the beholder, and in this case it was picture perfect cycling.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Water, Water Everywhere

Cycle Touring Made Easy

Three Generations of Awe

Discovering the Lost 40

A Cycling Liberation Celebration

Letting Go

Wedding Finery 2.0

A Metro Century Ride

Farewell Towering Pine

Artful Cycling

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