Tag Archives: Travel

To Give is to Receive

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Ever since joining WarmShowers, we have been on the receiving end of innumerable heart warming personal experiences. The organization exists to facilitate long distance cyclists who host other traveling cyclists.  So when others welcomed us into their homes throughout our previous cycling tours, we were overwhelmed by their extraordinary hospitality and the friendships that ensued.

But opening up our home to cyclists has proven to be equally rewarding.  When that hosting request comes in we never know the full story of those cycling through Duluth.  Reading their profiles gives us a little background.  But it isn’t until they arrive and the cyclists’ stories unfold that we truly begin to understand the personal stories behind our guests.  And it’s not always about the cycling.

This weekend we had the privilege of hosting Derek.  We knew from his website that he had terminal cancer and that in the face of that news he chose to fulfill a life-long dream of cycling around the world.  But that didn’t begin to prepare us for the enriching experience of sharing four days with Derek.

IMG_4765 trimmedDespite a house already bulging with kids and noisy grandkids who came for Grandma’s Marathon, Derek slipped right in and joined the festivities.  When we learned that it was also his birthday, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to celebrate the occasion with a bicycle-topped cake.  But it was in the quieter moments that we gradually got to know Derek.

The doctors IMG_4766 trimedhad given him 12 months to live, but Derek has already spent 19 months on his world cycling tour.  As it turns out, this is only his most recent bout with cancer, having faced it at least twice before and losing his wife to breast cancer.  Despite having traveled 4 continents and 44 countries to date, including some hair raising experiences in Asia, he admitted to slowing down, knowing he can’t do as much as he could when he started and needing more rest days.  Given that knowledge along with enjoying his company, we heartily encouraged him to prolong his stay with us.

Derek’s purpose in his trip is to inspire others.  In the face of devastating news, he didn’t accept defeat and wait for the cancer to overtake him.  He plans to fight it right to the end.  To help spread the word, Fox 21 News came out to interview Derek, featuring his story on the evening news and on their website.  It didn’t take a newscast to convince us, however.  In his quiet way, Derek exuded a confidence and determination that was impossible to ignore.

IMG_4784During Derek’s stay, another cyclist joined us.  Bala is soon to be a high school junior and is cycling from his home in Ohio to California this summer.  The picture of youth, yet with the plans and determination beyond his years, Bala embodies all that is good about young people. His trip blog is aptly named “Hey Mom, can I ride my bike to California?”

Since the two cyclists were traveling in opposite directions, it was the perfect opportunity to trade notes on the routes they covered to reach Duluth.  And we enjoyed eavesdropping when they shared anecdotes about stealth camping, eating on the cheap and other aspects of seasoned cycle touring.  It was easy to slip into the camaraderie of long distance cyclists, sharing a passion.

The house seems strangely quiet now, with our guests cycling on to their next destination.  But we are richer for getting to know them.  We thought hosting other cyclists was providing a service.  Instead, we have been truly blessed by those passing through our lives on two wheels.

Tending the Light

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We knew that Crisp Point Lighthouse was remote yet charming, but nothing prepared us for the beautiful sight that greeted us upon our arrival. Not only was the tower in good repair – having been brought back from the brink of endangerment in 1997 – but it’s supporters have rebuilt it’s service building, constructed a visitor center and landscaped the area with boardwalks and plantings to protect the dunes. It’s truly a testament to a dedicated group of individuals in the Crisp Point Light Historical Society. Along with a thorough orientation by the volunteers who preceded us on site, we knew we were off to a good start for our 5-day stint as lighthouse hosts.
wpid-Photo-20140618171941.jpgWe have easily settled into our job of manning the visitor center. There we are surrounded by an impressive array of lighthouse souvenirs to sell, along with displays of historical items. It is easy to linger and read the various pieces of literature in our downtime, absorbing more lighthouse history. With plenty of slow periods, we can easily take turns minding the shop and wandering the grounds.Greeting visitors is the best part of our duties. At times the whole parking lot is full, and at others we have a slow flow of customers who dribble in one vehicle at a time. Some even come by dirt bike or ATV. But they are all unique and come for different reasons. For those new to the lighthouse, just surviving the road to reach it feels like an achievement, but invariably worth it. And there are those who have been coming for years. They have great stories to tell, having seen the place before it’s recent improvements. Or when they could walk the beach in front of the lighthouse – land which has since been reclaimed by Lake Superior. We even met a man who once spent hours in the cold October Lake Superior waters to help build barriers to protect the lighthouse – all done by hand. And then there are the avid lighthouse collectors, on a quest to visit as many lighthouses as possible. Finally, those who come for a different reason entirely – rock hunting on the beach. All have something to share, enriching our own experience while on duty.
Outside our lighthouse obligations our life is pretty simple here. We have a campsite in a tidy enclosure, surrounded by the sturdy boardwalks leading to the lighthouse, beach and viewing areas. It has everything we need – a grill, fire ring, picnic table and soft sand under our tent for comfortable sleeping.

The longer we are here, the easier it is to surrender to this existence. Our world is small, but the beaches and the horizon stretch forever. Our options are limited, but I have little need for much besides a good book to read. Our technology is rendered useless, but I don’t really miss it. In fact, it’s quite liberating not being a slave to the internet.We were lucky to see this beautiful rainbow!This place is a photographer’s dream. At this time of year we can see both sunrises and sunsets, with the lighthouse adding a dramatic setting. Even I tend to carry my camera around wherever I go. Somehow the lighthouse takes on a different appearance throughout the day, and we never tire of looking for new angles or shots to take. Theoretically we have pure dark for vivid stars and night skies, although the clouds have not obliged on that front. But a short cloudburst this evening delivered a stunning rainbow – an unexpected gift.

Being able to go up in the lighthouse tower is a treat, particularly in the off- hours. From there we can survey our surroundings, seeing it from a new vantage point. A perk of the job. And the visitor center has proven to be a godsend. Numerous times we have sought shelter there, whether it be from the wind, the rain or the ravenous mosquitoes. A haven for hassled campers.

Rich out on the catwalk at the top of the lighthouseYes, it’s a good gig we have here. Definitely worth repeating. We’ll be back again next year to tend the light.

Crisp Point’s Many Faces

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In the four days we've been at Crisp Point Lighthouse so far, this coastline of Lake Superior has served up a varied selection of weather. While tent camping here we are naturally tied to the elements, and all that Mother Nature brings our way. So far, she continues to entertain us with her many moods.

We arrived on a foggy, misty and brooding morning. The wind was howling, blowing off the lake and seemed to strip away every ounce of warmth I could muster. I spent that day shivering, piling on layers of clothes I'd packed for just such circumstances, including my winter jacket. But I did wonder how I'd survive five days huddled in those same layers.

Despite the conditions, the lighthouse grounds fascinated us. The tower stood tall against the elements, claiming its place as safeguard for the coast. Even when the skies cleared, the waves continued to crash furiously against the shore providing an angry display of power, and a constant sound that lulled us to sleep that night.

The wind abated on our second day, and left mosquitoes in swarming its wake. Not everything can be perfect here, and these pests let us know it. I'm usually fairly tolerant, but I've never seen such hungry hoards before. It was enough to drive me to wear a dorky hat smothered in bug spray or seek refuge in the visitors center. At night they swarmed between our inner screen tent and rain fly in noisy frustration at being unable to reach us for their next meal. Only then did we feel we had won the battle, temporarily.

Yesterday afternoon a storm appeared to be brewing. Fortunately, it didn't materialize but it did bring huge gusts of wind that persisted for the remainder of the day. Our tent blew over three times before we finally gave up and collapsed it, anchoring it with rocks. And our screen tent pulled up its stakes and blew right off Rich who was sitting in it at the time. Sleep was hard to come by that night as the tent pulsated in the wind, the sides alternately collapsing in toward us and flapping away. I'm sure it was only our bodies that anchored it to the ground.

Today, in contrast, it's hot and sunny. The light wind is out of the south and the lake calmly laps the beach. We can see out into the water, with it's varying colors. It's a perfect day for walking the beach, which seems to be a bigger attraction to our visitors than the lighthouse today. I'm happy to sit by the water's edge and read in between the slow flow of guests.

My favorite times of the day are morning and evening. We have the place to ourselves then, a powerful feeling of good fortune to be surrounded by this natural beauty. Mornings are magical. Emerging from the tent in time to catch the sunrise leaves hours to enjoy the golden colors of the low sun as the shoreline awakens. It's peaceful, quiet and different every day.

Sunset comes late here. And we've had some beauties. By the time the light fades, I'm already thinking about a campfire – a camping requirement, in my opinion. Once the fire is established and roaring, I love watching the glow of the red-hot coals underneath. To add to the allure, the crackling of the fire is accompanied by the rhythmic flow of the waves on the beach in close proximity. The other night I could see a distinct line of red in the distance marking the sun's departure over the horizon, and the rhythmic repetition of the lighthouse's signal light. A pleasing combination.

Tomorrow is guaranteed to be different from today. I'm looking forward to what Crisp Point will deliver for us.

 

 

Lighthouse Keeping

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For the second time this year, we are setting out on a working vacation, retirement style. The deal involves trading volunteer hours for lodging in a unique setting. Last winter we worked at Snow Mountain Ranch in Colorado. This time our destination is Crisp Point Lighthouse in Michigan’s UP near Whitefish Bay.

This lighthouse is one of five positioned between Grand Island and Whitefish Point. It’s only a distance of about 50 miles, but Lake Superior claimed numerous ships in this stretch in the 1800s, leading to its moniker as “The Shipwreck Coast.” Pressure to build lighthouses began in the 1850s but it was 1904 before Crisp Point finally received funding and became operational. It remained in service until 1993. After nearly falling into disrepair with Lake Superior encroaching on its shoreline and lapping at its base, the lighthouse was saved by some enterprising folks who ultimately founded the Crisp Point Light Historical Society. That group has done extensive restoration and preservation work, ensuring the survival of the lighthouse for future generations to enjoy.

Lighthouse and attached service building, years ago

Crisp Point Lighthouse is said to be a beauty. Its remoteness enhances the appeal of the site, with Lake Superior’s unspoiled shoreline providing a dramatic backdrop. Only the lighthouse remains of the multiple buildings that comprised the orginal complex. The attached service building was recently rebuilt, and a new visitor center resembles the old fog signal structure.

Our gig is to man the visitor center and keep the buildings and grounds clean. We are expected to greet visitors and open the tower and gift shop from 10-5. Our instructions tell us we must “maintain the high standards of friendliness, neatness and cleanliness” in carrying out our duties. Just how many guests we will entertain is uncertain. Given that the lighthouse is located at the end of an 18-mile dirt road in an already sparsely populated area, it is not a sight to attract casual tourists. But the true lighthouse affectionados will find their way there.

Our accomodations on site will be a rustic campsite perched on the edge of Lake Superior. Devoid of running water, electricity and other amenities including cell reception, we will have to be self-sufficient for our 5-day stint. While it’s not required to stay overnight on the lighthouse grounds, to us that is the whole appeal. We even upsized to a 3-man pup tent for more elbow room, a luxury of car camping. Having our own slice of Lake Superior shoreline, sitting by a crackling campfire, reveling in the super dark night skies and the ever-hopeful possibility of Northern Lights are the draw for us.

We should arrive at Crisp Point tomorrow morning about 8:00, in time to talk to the volunteers who are preceding us and get some pointers before assuming our duties at 10am. After that we will be out there on our own with little connection to the outside world, just like lighthouse keepers of old. Check back with us in about a week to see if we find ourselves fit for the job.

 

 

Finding Family in St. Louis

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Hailing from 3 widely flung states, I only manage to get together with my siblings – two sisters and a brother – about once a year. Normally it's a family reunion in Minnesota. But this summer the occasion of a family wedding has brought us all to St. Louis for an extended weekend.

With the Laumeier Sculpture Park nearby, it was a natural destination for a walk with my sisters yesterday morning. The park has beautiful grounds and, well, “interesting” sculptures. We failed to see the art in some of them, and could only laugh at the creative descriptions of others. But it made for an entertaining and humorous walk.

The signature sculpture in the park is made of huge steel barrels. It's quite eye-catching due to its huge size and brilliant color. We enjoyed wandering around its base, inspecting it at close range.

 

I rather liked this piece. It even looks like a sculpture. From afar it resembles children dancing or animals swimming. Yet on closer inspection it is largely abstract. The sense movement is obvious, though, and inspired Betsy and me to add our own interpretation to the piece.

 

 

Susie found her own niche in another sculpture. This one features a pumpkin face in the center of a small amphitheater. She found the nose to be particularly comfy.

 

 

But perhaps the best of all was the Tree Womb. It even invited visitors to come on up and enter its lofty space. So we did. There was a wooden floor inside and several windows. It would make a great place to camp out, although I rather suspect park officials would frown on that.

 

 

Today we went to the St. Louis Zoo with more family members. It's an amazing place with extensive animal exhibits, and all free to the public. There's nothing like a zoo to bring out the kid in all of us, including this all-adult group. I loved the big cats with their powerful lean bodies and beautiful colors. But it was the baby animals that captured our hearts.

No family gathering would be complete without sampling the local ice cream. We visited the liveliest place in town, Ted Drewes Frozen Custard. The place was packed, with throngs of people out front. But service was quick and the frozen custard worthy of the crowd. A most fitting way to bond with family members.

There is a lot to be said for reconnecting with extended family. I forget how much we laugh when we are together, and how good that feels. This trip has the added bonus of bringing us back together with our cousins and getting to know their children as adults. It reinforces how much much family means to me, and how fortunate I am to be related to these wonderful people. I'm so very glad I made this trip to St. Louis. With family.

 

 

Music in the Park

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We’d seen the signs all week long.  Music in the Park on Sunday evening.  It was an alluring invitation – right in the development, a warm summery evening, and only a bike ride away.  With Dad feeling tired and interested in going to bed early, we decided to treat ourselves to a night out.

Approaching the park, we were amazed to see the line-up of cars.  And even more surprised by the golf cart that passed us, with a glass of wine in the hand of the passenger!  Realizing that the event was in a private venue, it suddenly dawned on us that anything was fair game.   Indeed, all around us were gourmet picnic spreads, bottles of wine, and even tables with balloons.  We arrived with two cans of pop and the remnants of a bag of pretzels in hand.

Without lawn chairs, we settled Concertourselves on an open patch of grass and flipped open our pop.  Clearly we were a pitiable site, as we soon had offers of a blanket, food and wine from the friendly people around us.  Being good Minnesotans, we politely declined several times.  But we could hold out only so long, and ultimately succumbed to glasses of very nice red wine.

The music turned out to be lively and fun.  While enjoying the doo wop rock, blues and classic country music of the 50s and early 60s, the concert was suddenly interrupted by sirens.  The Blues Brothers arrived via an old police car with a classic Bellaire sheriff’s vehicle in pursuit!  They joined the musicians and doubled the entertainment.  Between the music and the warm evening, it was a great time.

Blues Brothers and MollyWe decided it was best to leave before dark, which just happened to be when the Blues Brothers made their exit.  Naturally, they clamored for a picture with me, so I graciously obliged!

In the words of the musicians, “Oh what a night…”

 

Life in the Slow Lane

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Florida. The land of retirees and a whole different pace of life. While we technically fit into the retiree category, we have not yet adopted a more leisurely pace. So it’s a bit of an adjustment to adapt to this alternate lifestyle.  Even for a short visit. But with the loan of my sister-in-law’s bike, I’m making progress.

It’s called a cruiser. One speed, fatGetting the hang of this cruiser tires, big wide handlebars, a cushy seat and coaster brakes. Hers must be a designer model as it also has white sidewalls and is an eye-catching mint green. Truly a classic.

We all had this kind of bikes as kids – it’s what we learned on. So it should be intuitive, right? Well, not quite. After spending the last two years perfecting the nuances of my long distance touring bike with it’s umpteen speeds and cycling shoes, suddenly this masterpiece of simplicity felt foreign beneath me.

My first challenge was the handlebars. Their wide reach meant that any small movement was magnified by the front tire, making it extremely sensitive. As I set off down the road, I felt as though I was veering right and left. I was just certain that I would plow into the path of the next approaching car. Fortunately, it quickly evened out as I pedaled.

The bigger hurdle was stopping. How the heck was I supposed to use my feet for both braking and standing up when I stopped? I don’t remember that ever being an issue as a kid. Perhaps as an adult I think too much. I’m sure I left a few layers of rubber sole on the pavement at the first few intersections. But I gradually got the hang of braking with one foot and dropping the other to catch myself before falling. Mostly. I admit I’m still working on smoothing out that technique.

Thankfully, this area has wonderful bike paths. Wide, smoothly paved and totally lacking in hills, they are perfect for cruising on a bike. Once off the neighborhood streets, blissfully safe from cars and with few intersections, I began to get into the experience. I enjoyed the cooling effect of the wind on the hot, sunny afternoon. Lacking my tight fitting cycling gear, I relished the sloppy way my soccer shorts flapped in the wind, and my loose T-shirt fluttered around me. No need to be aerodynamic.

With only one speed, I discovered the joy of coasting. On gentle downward slopes, the bike sped up of its own accord. I couldn’t ratchet up any gears for more force, and it was pointless to spin my feet faster and faster in an attempt to catch up with the speed of the tires. So the only thing to do was glide and enjoy it. Whee!

When I did cross the occasional drive, I made sure to slow down and anticipate traffic. With an occasional wobble when cars approached, I figured they must think me a doddering grandma out on my bike. Then I realized that’s just what I was! A humbling thought, but not enough to deter me.

Riding for the pure joy of being outside in beautiful weather soon took over. Miles were inconsequential. Speed was meaningless. Distance didn’t matter. A novel experience. Life in the slow lane. I think I’m starting to get it.

Escape from Everlasting Winter

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In a winter already renowned for it’s below zero temperatures and lasting deep snow on the ground, we faced yet another winter storm warning just as April approached. We were plenty accustomed to bracing for storms, but this one held another threat for us. The impending nasty weather perfectly coincided with our scheduled departure for Florida. Our escape was in jeopardy.

But the preparations went on. It was hard enough to make sense of the t-shirts, shorts and sandals piled on the bed to be packed. Envisioning wearing them was even more of a challenge. It must have had a lot to do with the piles of snow staring at us through the windows.

Fortunately, weather forecasts are imperfect at best, and this storm failed to materialize as early as predicted. We breezed up to the Duluth airport and our flight departed right on time. Whew! Let the storm rage, now that we were safely out of its reach.

Canal-Park-By-Air

Canal Park by Air – taken by Rich Hoeg

Our flight path took us right over Canal Park where Rich took a dramatic photo out the window. Lake Superior’s icy surface was ubiquitous. The open channel through the Aerial Bridge showed up in stark contrast, and quickly dissolved into tightly clustered ice chunks which gave way to solid ice. Clearly the hard work of the Coast Guard ice cutters was short lived. It was easy to see why the nascent shipping season had come to a rapid halt.

Florida feels like another world. It’s green everywhere, flowers are in bloom, and the sun sheds a genuine warmth. In fact, sitting in the sun reading my book I get hot. But I’m not complaining. Running early in the morning is refreshingly cool, and my natural impulse is to avoid the wet spots from the automatic sprinklers. But the ice I expect is far from reality. What pure joy!

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To double our pleasure, we check the webcam back home. Ooh boy, does it look ugly looking down our front steps. Icy rain splatters the windows and it just plain looks cold. My weather app reports dangerous high winds, and friends confirm the terrible driving conditions. It’s a winter storm all right, not an April Fool’s joke. Or is it?

No matter.  We have escaped for now.  We will worry about the everlasting part when we return.

Farewell Snow Mountain Ranch

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A world of white greeted me on my final morning at Snow Mountain Ranch. Deep powder blanked my car and was still being plowed from the campus roadways. Arriving at breakfast earlier than usual, the low sunlight caught the sparkling white branches of the pine trees atop the hill at the Commons with mountain peaks glowing in the background. It begged for a photo, but for once I had no camera with me.

By the time I finished packing the car a thick low fog had descended into the valley. All was indeed white. And so were the roads. The snowpack and ice were an unwelcome addition to the roads that were clear pavement just the afternoon before, and it was a slow and treacherous drive through the local countryside.

The Berthoud Pass, which was my most direct route to Denver, had been closed the day before and through the night due to a snowslide, but fortunately reopened early that morning. I was glad for the clear sunny skies which worked their magic on the road, uncovering patches of pavement that gave my tires greater purchase as I wound my way around the switchbacks in the mountain pass. Unaccustomed to driving on my own in dicey conditions, I prided myself that my knuckles never turned white and I safely navigated the pass. My reward was stopping at the first exit on the freeway (which was mercifully clear) to rid my wipers of ice and stand in a long line in order to savor a latte.

wpid-Photo-20140310113131.jpgFinally I could relax a little and reflect on my time at SMR. That last week there finally cemented my affection for the place, and I could understand why so many senior volunteers return year after year. Good weather (no strong winds!), lots of fresh snow, excellent skiing, plentiful social events and good company all came together, and at last I knew how it felt to be part of it all. It takes a while to get acclimated to the way of life at SMR and really get to know people. I was indeed part of the SMR family. And wouldn’t you know, I reached that point just about the time I had to leave. I only wish that Rich had been able to stay and enjoy the same benefits and rewards. It was a great experience, and left me wanting to return for more.

At the Denver airport, Rich and I were reunited after a long 10 days apart while he stayed with his Dad in the hospital in Florida. We ended up cutting our time at SMR short by about 5 days, but under the circumstances, we were both ready to head for home. It was a bittersweet experience, but the bitter is fading fast leaving mostly sweet memories for me. Farewell, Snow Mountain Ranch – at least for now.