Coop's Corner: We Played Fort

Sunday, September 23, 2018

We Played Fort

Sixty (well maybe 55-56 to be factual) years ago we used to "play fort". This weekend we two "played the fort" in a much different and more age appropriate way. Over the last while, Eric had learned that to one extent or another, we'd be welcome in Public Areas at Fort McCoy as Recreational users. This weekend we Recreated!

A few years ago, actually more like 10, I had started digging into my great great grandfather's history around the Sparta, Wisconsin area. Coming west from PA, they settled, renting at first and then buying property just outside of what is now Angelo. Looking at various plat books of the area from back in the 1870's, I found the property listing for the Cooper side, still trying to find where his wife had lived though know from records that it was nearby. While learning more about the Cooper part, I was curious about Fort McCoy which wasn't yet in existence in the late 1800's, rather it began in 1909, later growing in size to its current size of 90 sq. miles.

In the image below, I've highlighted in red where Isaac's property was, its eastern line on the western boundary of Fort McCoy. By next summer (when we ride the area again) I'll have made contact with Cooper's that still live in the area and see what more I can both learn and share.

The north/south road just inside the Fort boundary is Burma Road and from there, through the trees, I could look down yesterday upon the building site from the high ridge that the Fort road snakes along.

Just leaving the campground Friday morning....

See what he does?? Churns up the soft stuff and then my bike gets all dirty.

The Ski Hill on Base....

Freshly graded gravel on the already-mentioned Burma Road.

Lots of Tank Crossing signs....we didn't see any moving.

Burma Road looking north...

Friday's stop at the Observation Point...Saturday we'd return when there was actual rapid fire target practice in the valley beyond.

A stop at the flowage....Eric pointed out a Golden Eagle that circled us once and then left.

Steeper than it looks, rubber sheets to control erosion.

It wasn't just Eric making a mess.....

This quite simply describes our weekend....

We left the Fort, headed to Oakdale for lunch....Eric knew of a place...

Views like this a lot more of what we're used to...

Laughing Larry's Lunchroom....if there's even a remote possibility that you can stop, you should. Larry's food is great, his company as good.....you'll thank me. Two truck washing bays, one on each side, the CAFE in the center.

Place mats....pages from trucking magazines....the menu.

The door leading out to the wash bay....helpful reminders....

This especially caught my eye but wasn't acted upon.

Singing fish in the Men's room..."Don't worry, be happy"

This driver came into the diner, looking only for coffee but right away wanted to know which one of us had the KTM. A motocrosser/flattracker going way back with even now a garage full of high powered machines, he appeared to be a lot more interested in talking "bikes" than in getting this load from Winona to Chicago. We talked while his truck was getting clean, then he pulled it out for the guy behind him so that the other guy's truck could get clean.

We left Oakdale heading northeast, played around on some county roads north of Elroy, up through Kendall and finally back to near Angelo for dinner at Club Oasis. Eric took charge of Friday's meal locations and the results are in.....he's now our designated Meal Locator. The supper club served up an amazing Fish Fry, we were lucky to get there when we did.

Outsmarting ourselves, we stopped and picked up this wood that had asbestos-like qualities.....fire proof.

Saturday morning, a solid 32 and foggy.

Up County E, bordering the eastern edge of McCoy.

Paul joined us for breakfast, really nice to see him again!

After a pleasant leisurely breakfast, Paul left for home, Eric and I circled around the north end of McCoy and down the west side.

Pointing out the 140 years ago home of Isaac Cooper.

Not really back to the campground but close, we approached the Observation Point from the east and discovered that there were target shots being fired.

When we got there, there were bursts of shooting and puffs of dust out there in the target area.

Our goal for the afternoon was to do the south section, south of Hwy 21.

Base housing....

Overlooking a vast open area....we'll later ride across it.

In a "city's" roundabout.....

Roads that go and go and go....

We quite literally saw hundreds of these bird houses. Numbered, opened up with a tag...National Audubon Society.

Coop in one of the villages....

We never went through a CLOSED gate.....we didn't have to, none of them ever were.

We were finding softer....and then softer....

Some rougher too.....

After the Himalaya decided to take a prone rest in the soft sand....I've lost a few pounds, maybe lacked the strength to keep it upright???

At this point, I'm digging an irrigation ditch....much wheel motion, woefully little forward motion.

I knew he'd be up there somewhere....I had his track to follow though his much less pronounced than mine.

Some brushing here, a little there....good as new.

Eric wondering how many more times I'd tip it over....:)

I weebled and I wobbled but I didn't fall down.

Here we are on a mound in that large open area.

Barbecue in Tomah....and afterwards a stop for some wood that actually performed like wood should!

317 miles here represented by these red lines.

The North section of Fort McCoy and surrounds .....

The Southern section.....

This morning in our campsite.....

A balmy 42 at departure time....

Not really ideal in deep sand....

Probability is extremely high that Eric and I will be visiting soft sand in the very near future with me using an outfit with this hookup instead. I've confidence that even ol' Coop will be able to make this one go.

Hope springs eternal!

We had fun....we had enough fun that we're determined to go back and do it again next year. Every one of those same roads can be run in reverse!

8 comments:

UnknownSeptember 23, 2018 at 8:14 PM
Very nicely done gentlemen
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redlegsridesSeptember 24, 2018 at 8:16 AM
Nice ride report...and yeah, the knobbies should help with the loose sand....the stuff looks like I would have engaged the 2WD on the Ural to deal with it.
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Scott SeidlSeptember 24, 2018 at 6:32 PM
Your adventure brings back a lot of mixed memories. I dug a lot of foxholes in Fort McCoy sand. Looks like you had a lot more fun with it than I ever did.
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mohessianSeptember 25, 2018 at 5:50 PM
OMG. "Let's play fort!" Oh man, that's a memory alright. It's like "Let's play house!", but for boys only. But you know, inevitably, there must have been a girl involved SOME time. Sheryl/Mary/The Putzes. Can't remember though. You having brought up the subject, will surely remember.
I wonder if that is a common sentence said by boys everywhere/anywhere? NOT just in Roseville.
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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)