Coop's Corner: Thursday, First Of 4

Thursday, November 12, 2020

Thursday, First Of 4 - 2020/11/05

The predicted weather was almost unbelievable, not only for the end of the week but actually for the entire week. There were enough vacation hours in my bucket so I asked for 8 of them, making my already long weekend a day longer. Easily justified with the expected weather. Normally in this situation and with my schedule, I'd have left Wednesday right after work but with late afternoon darkness, there was no way I wanted to spend the hours driving through that many miles of deer-populated countryside. A reasonable start pre-dawn on Thursday was going to be early enough.

We are not to buy firewood great distances from where it will be consumed so I waited until I was mostly north to pick some up. Normally supplied at my favorite convenience stores of which there are a few, I had to speculate that the tourist season was over because none of them had their wood racks out. A stop was made at one of the hardware stores instead and 4 bundles of dry oak were stacked in the van.

Quite a bit of thought went into where I planned on camping but there were options based on how busy and available I might find things. First choice was going to be Perch Lake Campground, one of the National Forest non-reservable locations. I carry a couple of blank personal checks for the Self - Serve camp registration boxes and with my Senior Pass, camping at Perch Lake would be $7.50/night with my old folks rate. When I drove in, there were Campground Closed signs, covers over the pay and registration boxes. Camping was still allowed but there was no water available.

There are two sections at Perch Lake, a small South section and a larger North section. Guessing that the smaller South side would be less desirable and therefore less busy, it was my first choice. 6 private and nicely spaced sites, only one taken when I arrived around 10am Thursday morning. Those folks, 3 generations of deer hunters, were at the other end of the loop, very quiet and as such, I literally didn't really know they were around. As things turned out, through Saturday, we were the only two campers and late Saturday afternoon, even the hunters had left leaving me all alone.

These benches were made from trees cut on-site the way it looked. There were many old and dying large trees around the camp area and my hunch is that these were cut to prevent deadfalls from hurting someone. In fact, one of the benches is covering the stump where the chunks must have come from. Over the weekend I visited another nearby N.F. campground, Wanoka and multiple sites there were closed as the forest service was removing other big trees that were weak and tip-prone. A lovely, spacious, private, level and quiet campsite.

Normally I'd have setup my lean-to tarp right away but there wasn't much point since the sun wasn't going to overwhelm and the rain what rain wouldn't be falling. If conditions were to change, setting everything up wouldn't have taken 10 minutes. It was not necessary.

These boots still have the region's dirt on them from our end of September Lake Delta trip and I'm not the least bit ashamed of the fact, 'Stich pants as well!

Curious about the columns....

I turned around to go back for a better look. Did a lot of it that day.

Another CCC camp, I lost count of how many I rode past and/or stopped at over the 4 days.

These little Forest Roads off to the side were shown on my GPS and when the lake was shown as well, more often than not there was a lovely very basic boat landing at the end or along the way. I followed many of them.

After the 4 corners stop (239 and 245) I headed up to my Undisclosed Campsite location, one of the places I thought I might stay for my long weekend. Conditions on the way up there.....no deep sand, but this was predominant everywhere I went.

So the above was consistent and then....on my Undisclosed Road, the conditions were the worst I'd seen all weekend. So glad I didn't try and get back in there with the minivan and trailer.

Looking at this, you'd think I should have been riding there on the 'solid' along the shoulders since right here it looks to be much improved.

Oh contraire my friend!....I was there and done that.

Icy, frosty, muddy moosh.

In Cornucopia, the big new Halvorson Fishery building, next to Ehlers'.

One more time...in front of the Twin Sisters.

From Corny I rode west over to Port Wing and out to the Marina.

Back to camp....

I'm normally not the guy that cooks and then eats in the dark but after Daylight Central fades away, a guy doesn't have much choice.

Lots of time for contemplation on a November evening in the north woods. Some music, some distant AM radio, some map studying and mostly, the sounds of wind rustling the bare branches.

Thursday's ride....

And....that which would eventually happen...

More Posts to follow...Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Coming soon!

8 comments:

David MasseNovember 13, 2020 at 6:25 AM
Camping in mid-November, now that’s serious commitment to the great outdoors.

Looking forward to the rest of your trip.
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RichardMNovember 13, 2020 at 8:44 PM
No snow makes for a good weekend!
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TroubadourNovember 14, 2020 at 7:00 PM
I laughed when I saw your boots. Thinking that you can't transport firewood, and boats require invasive species permits... but mud is okay. Although it looks like you took more home than you brought. ;)
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ScottyNovember 24, 2020 at 4:50 PM
I'm not sure I recognise that grey bearded man in the photo!
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)