***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Travel:
Trout Lake ~ Lake Michigan
September, 2011
Another trip to our Ontario cabin, this time with my wife Jen. A somewhat unusual situation this time since I needed to pick up my Chevy Tracker, which I left last May on some property I own in Wayland, Michigan. I rent the property to the State Police who have an office there. In May (see blog below) I drove the sturdy, 4-wheel-drive vehicle all the way from Washington state with the express purpose of using it to negotiate a rugged .8/mile stretch of road into the lake. Unfortunately the experiment was a failure as the road was more than a match for the Tracker (it took me an hour to get through the boulder-strewn trail), and I nearly got stuck there with a burned-out clutch. It managed to revive itself, fortunately, after cooling down. So, in a sense, it was back to square one on this trip, in terms of accessing the lake, by using the 3-times-a-week train from Sault Ste. Marie. But we still needed to get there, a 4-hour drive from Wayland.
Thanks to Gary Wagner, as usual, for letting us park our car at his house near the Seattle airport and dropping us at Seatac. After flying into Grand Rapids Jen and I went to pick up the vehicle with the kind assistance of my longtime friend, Tom Ellis, who not only let us use his home but borrow his pickup to get out to Wayland, about 20 miles south of the city. Also, I want to thank the Pfeiffers, Terry and Teri, who kindly picked us up at the airport.
When we arrived in Wayland the vehicle would not start. It had a nearly dead battery and I noticed that mice had been gnawing on the plastic housing surrounding the battery wires. Fortunately they had not damaged the unit but I had to get a patrolman to come out and jump start the Tracker. He didn't notice that I still have Washington plates, probably not kosher with the police!
Back at Tom's we spent the night, and after buying a new battery and assembling a basket for my Thule car rack I had drop-shipped there, we departed for the northlands. Our first stop was Traverse City where I keep portable bins for food, clothing, and purchases, as well as some propane tanks. We found a great deal that night on a motel there, the Traverse Bay Inn, which can probably be best described as a "recession special:" $49. Even at that price, it was more than a pleasant place to stay with kitchen/living room, and two separate bedrooms, one upstairs! Now how many times have you stayed at a motel with an upstairs? And for $49? They even had bikes to use, which we took advantage of as dusk set in to ride a section of the town's TART biking and walking trail which ran a short distance behind the motel. And a swimming pool and laundry facilities to boot! One of the best motel deals I've ever had.
In the morning we departed for the north, after running some errands and buying our food supply for Trout Lake, this time with our sights set on St. Ignace, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, just across the Mackinac straits bridge. We stayed at a decently-priced Quality Inn, as I have several times now, whose rooms face right on to Lake Huron, with a view across the water to Mackinac Island. We had a good meal at the local brew pub, then walked around a little before turning in for the night. We were treated to a lovely sunset, and warm temperatures.
Sunset at St. Ignace, with nearly full moon. Mackinaw Island is visible to the left.
After a continental breakfast we drove about 1 hour to Sault Ste. Marie where we boarded the train for Trout Lake. There were only three of us on the train, which travels a few hundred miles before returning the next day. It's a wonder this milk-run for residents of the many lakes along the way is still in service, given the low ridership. It takes the train 2 hours to travel the 57 miles to Trout Lake and we were deposited there just before noon. Our good friends Neil and Kathy Conway were there to greet us and help unload our goods from the boxcar.
Normally we have some sort of "project" in mind for the six or seven days we normally spend at the cabin. For some time we have wanted to have an awning for our deck, and another for a window by the dining table which gets a lot of sun. As you probably know, that sort of thing is expensive if you buy commercially, but Jen runs a window treatments business and we just happened to have inherited some awning material when we purchased our Anacortes house. So, we put together what I affectionately call our "hillbilly awning" for less than $50. Jen sewed some pockets in the fabric for support beams and I learned how to place grommets in the fabric for tie-downs. Then we purchased some PVC pipe at Lowe's and, voila, two awnings were quickly in place!
We anchored one end to the cabin with large cup hooks and the other end was attached to verticle PVC pipe on the front end of the deck. The pipes were strapped to posts and connected horizontally across the top with more PVC pipe that was goose-necked together. Hey, it works (though we have some adjustments yet to do)!
We started off with three warm days of weather and managed to get some swimming in off our beach. But then an incredible thunderstorm came through, on the advance of a strong cold front. We were awakened about midnight one night with what best can be described as a rifle shot close to the cabin. It was lightning, and must have struck very close to us. We have a metal roof on the cabin which gave us pause for concern, since there is nothing but woods and lake close to us. The storm came in with a fury, right over the top of us, and there was constant flashing and lightning for a few hours.
The view from our deck
After the storm passed it got much colder -- down into the 50s (from the high 70s) in the daytime and near freezing at night. Our ancient (1910-20) wood cookstove was more then up to the task, however, and we managed to keep that cabin temperature well into the 70s, and even had to start opening windows and doors when it hit 80 degrees!
We do not have bathing facilities there, except the lake, so our normal procedure is to use a pair of solar showers which work quite effectively. These are 5 gal. plastic bags with an attached hose and shower head which we hang from a tree behind the cabin. Cold water is poured into the bag in the morning and then we lay the bag on on a table exposed to the sun. If the weather is warm and sunny, the water is nice and hot by late afternoon. On colder days we put in less water in the morning, then heat water on the stove to add later. That works well, but you have to keep a stiff upper lip to shower outside when the temps are in the 50s -- or less!
Typical of Trout Lake, the weather jumps all over the place. 3 days of quite warm weather, followed by two days of very cold weather, followed by mixed conditions until we left. The winds seems to change direction constantly.
Finally, we were able to enjoy a new futon that I had ordered from a store in Traverse City. I want to thank Ron Lints and Jon Chrestensen for bringing it up and getting it to the cabin, no easy deal for them. We have had no real seating options for ourselves and guests, other than some ancient, uncomfortable dining table chairs. The futon gives us a couch, and a sleeping option for visitors.
The view from our room at the Delta Inn. That is the bridge between the United States and Canada
After about a week it was time to leave. We boarded the train, which always gets in at an unpredictably late hour, this time about 6pm. Jen had a birthday recently and I had promised her an evening at an upscale hotel, which is exactly what we did after arriving back in the "Soo." The Delta Inn there has reasonably nice rooms, in our case directly overlooking the St. Mary's River. The river runs between Lake Superior and Lake Huron forming the boundary between the United States and Canada.
We watched the sunset from our room and then had an excellent pizza in the lounge of the hotel. I was surprised when the chef actually came to our table and inquired about the meal. He seemed genuinely interested in our satisfaction. Nice touch...and some change of pace from Trout Lake!
The next day we needed to get back to Traverse City to drop off the car and our other items. It is about a three-hour drive and since we had the whole day to achieve it, we decided to stop in Mackinaw City to wash some clothes, walk around, and have lunch.
This is an excellent smaller town on the south side of the Mackinac Bridge at the top of Michigan's lower peninsula. I had never really explored this town even though I was raised there and had stopped for meals a number of times. While we waited for our clothes to wash and dry we walked all around, and were treated to great views of the 5-mile long Mackinac Bridge and the convening waters of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan.
The Mackinac Bridge, from Mackinac City
There is a Colonial-era fort there, Fort Michilimackinac, for touristy visitors. We spotted some employees from the Fort, in period costumes, wandering around the streets. We had a reasonable lunch at "Audie's," which served a number of Great Lakes fish entrees, including Whitefish and Walleye.
From there it was on to Frankfort, a small Lake Michigan waterfront town west of Traverse City. I have never been to Frankfort and had heard good things. We weren't disappointed. For starters, we had one of the best Asian meals I've ever had, and that's saying a lot as the West Coast is loaded with them. This was at The Fusion, an innocuous place on Main Street. We (and particularly I) hesitated at first as the place was very busy and there was a 30-minute queue. Jen felt this was a good sign and though there were several other decent options immediately available, we finally opted for what became a short wait for a seat. If you go to Frankfort, and like Asian food, don't hesitate to try The Fusion.
Getting a decent room on Saturday night, even in September, turned out to be a little difficult. It appears there are not that many lodging options, surprising for the number of tourists we saw. It came down to a $250 condo with 4 bedrooms, or a funky, $89 motel. We quickly chose the latter and got the last room. It was passable but nothing to write home about.
Frankfort, Michigan
After the fine meal it was time for a walk, just as the sun was setting, and that lead us to a pier and lighthouse. It was really quite balmy and we were treated to a brilliant amber sunset over Lake Michigan. Folks were still fishing from the pier, but the comments didn't sound too positive. We walked to the lighthouse and then back to our motel through a pleasant residential neighborhood.
The next day, Sunday, began with breakfast at a local bakery and then we headed south for Grand Rapids to catch our airplane. We had some time, so decided to visit some other small Michigan towns along the way.
First we stopped at a Lake Michigan overlook where we encountered several folks on a antique car tour. These were some beauties, one a 1924 Rolls Royce convertible.
Manistee is a Lake Michigan community with an attractive, but struggling, old town section that fronts a canal coming in from the lake. We walked around for awhile and then got back on M-37. At Newaygo we had lunch at the River Stop Cafe, a place with good food and a lot of atmosphere, situated as it is in an 1884 brick-walled building that was completely restored in 1998.
From there we motored on to Grand Rapids where, after a brief stop to see our friends Tom Ellis and Judy Carter, and mutual friend John Lepley (Tom, John, and I were college fraternity brothers) who was visiting them, we caught a late plane flight to Seattle. By the time we reached Anacortes, after starting the day way up in northern Michigan, we had been awake 22 hours. Our bed never felt better...
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Hiking:
Skyline Divide ~ Mt. Baker
September 5, 2011
It's a marvelous hike -- one of the most beautiful in the North Cascades perhaps -- if you don't mind a veritable freeway of other like-minded enthusiasts along the way. Lot of folks on this one (what did we expect on Labor Day?)! It's a steep one too, at least initially, ultimately climbing about 2000 feet in a few miles to the divide, a grassy ridge where you are rewarded with a near 360-degree panorama dominated by Mt. Baker, Mt Shuksan, and even the Twin Sisters. Most folks stop here but there is an even larger reward waiting for the more adventurous.
Stan Miller heads toward Mt. Baker Lunchtime for some folks at Skyline Divide
My regular hiking buddy, Stan Miller, and Jen and I headed out on a warm day a little worried about running into the bugs we suffered on our recent slog up to Hannegan Pass (see article below). Fortunately they were not too much of a problem this time. We arrived at the trailhead about 10am, after an hour-and-a-half drivefrom Bellingham, part of which includes a 13-mile gravel road.
We got a fairly early start but there were upwards of 40 vehicles already in the parking lot (Rangers told us later they had counted 75 the day before).
The trail starts out steeply in forest and stays that way for the first mile and-a-half before starting to attenuate somewhat as one nears the pass.
Nonetheless we reached the Divide (near 6000 ft.) in pretty good shape and, after assessing the large number of folks having lunch there, elected to delay ours for a quieter spot. Stan suggested heading south along the crest of the Divide. We could see from there that the trail split after a short, but steep, distance whereby it followed another ridge directly toward Mt. Baker. Off we headed and momentarily left most of the rest of the hikers behind. Stupendous views gripped us with almost every step, and the wildflower displays were really at their peak. We stopped on a knoll and ate lunch, then walked perhaps another mile, finally reaching our highest elevation, about 6300 feet, before turning around.
Interestingly we ran into several people who were patrolling the area as volunteers. We spoke with them for awhile, and it was good to see these folks providing a presence on the trail in terms of helping to keep it clean, answer questions, etc. This is what I did in the 1970s and 80s when I worked as a seasonal Ranger for the National Park Service and Forest Service, some of the time as a "wilderness" patrol like them.
I say it is "good to see these folks" but at the same time irksome to realize that these are not paid positions (as mine was), thanks to ongoing budget cutting, now several decades in the making. Do we want these areas maintained and protected, or do we not? If we do we need to pay for it, and it is time to pony up the funds, in my opinion.
At any rate we reached the parking lot about 5 hours after we started out. I always have a few "tall, cool ones" waiting as a reward and this trip was no different.
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Hiking:
Hannegan Pass
August 26, 2011
You never know what you're going to get when you go hiking in the North Cascades. If you choose your day carefully, you can reasonably expect certain things during the latter summer months: an aerobic 5-10 mile roundtrip of about 2000-2500 feet elevation gain; pleasant, often old growth hiking initially leading to expansive, jaw-dropping views at the higher elevations; meadowy wildflowers; and tired, happily aching bones and muscles back at the trailhead. In the case of Stan Miller and myself, you can also add a cold, frosty one to top it all off.
Hannegan Pass Trailhead
I said, "reasonably expect," because it doesn't always play out that way. These are the North Cascades, after all, and expectations must also include the possibility of negatives.
Such was the case with our trip to Hannegan Pass, in the Mt. Baker National Forest. Stan had been wanting to do this hike for some time, but the late season snow accumulations left it uncertain. Finally the trail report looked good and we departed on the 1 hour drive from Bellingham to the trailhead. Once I got out of the car, at 3100-feet in the still cool, morning air, the first potential negative became evident: deer flies. Not bad at this early hour, but the prospect of a warm day meant an increasing chance of encountering more of the pesky critters as the day advanced. To say the least! Frankly, we were overwhelmed by the time we reached Hannegan Pass and our lunch break several hours later. It was bad enough that I was forced to re-attach leggings to my hiking shorts on a hot day and resort to Stan's Cutters fly repellent, something I'm loathe to do ordinarily. On the way out, we encountered three elderly hikers (that is, older than us) in the early stages of the trail. I wondered how far they would get, and by the time we had reached the parking lot, they were not far behind us, beating a hasty retreat.
Tiger Lily
I mentioned the "prospect of a warm day." To say the least! By the time we headed back down it had heated up considerably, perhaps not overwhelming so - high 80s to low 90s. The problem was that there is a long stretch -- perhaps a couple of miles - of exposed trail with no shade. The sun was beating down on us and I ran out of hydrating electrolyte drinks. I began plodding and I could begin to feel the early stages of heat exhaustion. Talk about a cold, frosty one "hitting the spot" once we got back!
There were also a few personal calamaties: First of all, I lost my cap on the way up the trail. I had looped it to my pack but it dropped off when I unbuckled, and I didn't notice. Fortunately someone picked it up and returned it to my truck - but not having it added to the heat issues on the exposed stretches of trail. If that weren't enough, I set my pack down on a steep stretch of trail, and one of my bottles of water fell out and rolled off the nearly vertical edge. Fortunately it was in a thick area of vegetation and, while not immediately visible (I thought it might have literally disappeared down to the valley floor), I was able to clamber over the edge and recover it several feet below the trail. Much further down and it would have been hopeless. I mentioned running out of liquid later; that included consumption of this bottle.
So anyway, a few negatives. But there were also some unexpected positives. It was indeed surprising to see a bumper crop of wildflowers all along the trail. Per above, there are long stretches of exposed, meadowy hiking on the southeast-facing slope of the Ruth Creek watershed and, given the late season there were spring-like displays of Columbines; Lilies (Glacier and Tiger Lily); Penstemon; Monkey Flower varieties; Fireweed; Cow Parsnip; Pearly Everlasting; Bistort; white and purple Daisies, Paintbrush; and numerous plants I couldn't identify. It was stunning, actually, set against a backdrop of alpine peaks, many still with snowy bibs, couloirs, and cols.
The hike itself is actually rather gentle for the first several miles, but then climbs 1200 feet in the last mile to the 5000-foot pass. It is possible to continue on all the way to Ross Lake, perhaps 30 miles or so or, with lesser ambition, to nearby ridges and peaks. There were promised "stunning" views, according to the guidebook, all of which we hoped to do on this hike, but the onslaught of deer flies killed any notions of that sort and shortened our lunch stop as well. After a brief rest and lunch, we headed back down.
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Hiking:
Heliotrope Ridge
August 19, 2011
Stan Miller and I got an early start on this adventure, thanks to my ability to actually yank myself out of bed early and head up to Bellingham to meet him. Good thing we did as this hike, on the north flank of Mt. Baker is a very popular one, even on a weekday. We saw plenty of hikers and climbers (it is their north access route) on a beautiful summer day, particulary on our return.
It is about an hours drive up the Mt Baker highway to the trailhead, where we already found a nearly full parking lot. The Heliotrope Ridge hike begins at about 3700 feet and it took us about 2 hrs to reach our highest point, about 5400 feet. Beyond that one starts to get into increasingly steeper snow fields where an ice ax is recommended, something I did not have. We reached tree line about 4800 feet and spectacular vistas ensued. The trail actually splits about that point. We took the left route which has the advantage of skirting the beautiful north glacier of Mt. Baker.
The other route is the climber's route, steeper but also offering magnificent, sweeping views of Mt. Baker facing southwards and Canadian mountains to the North. This is all highlighted by marvelous meadows of Indian Paintbrush, Lupine, Yellow Aster, and Cow Parsnip dominating.
There are a number of stream crossings along the way. I counted six, and at this time of year (late melting for August) several were rapid enough to warrant careful approaches.
It surprised me somewhat, how quickly we arrived at our upward terminus and stopped for lunch. There were a number of other folks sprawled out near us, enjoying the stunning scenery and spectacular views.
To our right were gnarly pillars of snow and ice in the glacier, and near its head above us we could see some precariously perched seracs below Mt. Baker. It struck me how difficult it would be to try and navigate through this wilderness of crevasses.
On our way out we decided to take a short side trip up the other hiking trail, where we almost immediately came upon more stunning views. Highly recommended.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Preface:
So, put yourself in my shoes (or rather, driver's seat). There I was, 8 miles up a remote Ontario logging road and another 20 miles of gravel road from civilization, on a Saturday, stranded in my Chevy Tracker with no cell service. The problem? I had just finished negotiating 8/10s of a mile of extreme 4wd road from Trout Lake and my cabin -- which took me an hour to accomplish -- and I was now on relatively easy, graded logging road. I stopped momentarily to regroup and breath a sigh of relief. Then I stepped on the clutch pedal -- which went to the floor and did not return! No clutch! As well, I could not get the vehicle into gear. Try as I might there was no compression in the clutch. What to do? I could sit and wait for assistance but there is little traffic, possibly none on a Saturday . I could walk back down to the lake, but the black flies were gathered in clouds just hoping I would choose that option. Even if I survived that torturous walk I would be at an end of the lake with no habitation and hope a fisherman would come along. Small chance of that either, as there were only a few people at their cabins. What would you do? I'll let you think about it...
Have fun driving this!
I had just driven over 2800 miles from Anacortes to Trout Lake, the first time I have actually driven into the lake. Normally I use the train service from Sault Ste. Marie, but an extension of a logging road closer to the lake, foreshortening the bad stretch to less than a mile, and the flexibility car access provided, convinced me to drive my Tracker all those miles.
What a beautiful stretch of miles (at least 'til now!). It took me six days to reach the "Soo" but I enjoyed just about every moment of it. I am a person who can find at least some interest in the environment under most circumstances and so it was for this trip. Along the way I passed through Washington, Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and Ontario, all beautiful in their own way.
Another reason for the road trip was to visit historical family sites on my mother's side, in Saskatchewan and Manitoba. She was the daughter of a Presbyterian minister and grew up there in the early decades of last century. I also stopped in North Dakota to take some photos and get a brief tour of a small town where my wife's mother grew up.
Although I have crossed the country by car several times (including a couple of hitchiking adventures) in my youth, I took this trip with some trepidation at my more advanced age. I needed to cover 4-5 hundred miles a day, much of it on secondary roads, in order to meet some deadlines along the way. The Tracker has nearly 140k on it. Could I/it handle this? Let us see...
*********************************************************************************************************************
Wallace, Idaho is an interesting town, tucked into the foothills of the Bitteroot Mountains just off I-90 east of Spokane, Washington. I set my sights on it for my first night on the trip. This was partly because I had recently completed reading the book "The Big Burn," by Timothy Egan, which details the largest forest fire in U.S. history (3 million acres) in 1910 and its impact on Wallace. 1/3 of the buildings in the town were destroyed and 87 people lost their lives and I wanted to see for myself.
100 years have passed since the event but there is little evidence that such a catastrophic event occurred, although there are less than 1000 people now, compared to 3000 at its peak in the 1890s. The trees bordering the town have re-grown and buildings re-built. In fact, it almost seems as if the town would just as soon forget the whole tragic event, judging by the lack of information, historic plaques, and the like. I took a nice room at the Wallace Inn and walked around town. Nice place! I dined at the 1313 Club an older bar and restaurant where I had an excellent spaghetti dinner.
Downtown Wallace, Idaho
In the morning I got back onto I-90 departing it for good in Missoula, Montana. It was my intent to travel into Canada through a border station in North Dakota so I needed to angle north, closer to the border. I took Highway 200 from Missoula to Great Falls, probably the singular most beautiful stretch of scenery I saw on the entire trip. For starters I saw a family of Bighorn Sheep grazing right by the side of the road, just a few miles from Missoula. 
It was a sunny Spring day and further on I began to get into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. The two-lane road began to wind through some beautiful, rolling countryside, snow-capped peaks of the Rockies forming a backdrop. There was little traffic.
After a long, mesmerizing prelude to reach the Continental Divide, I crossed it at Rogers Pass and almost immediately was out of the forested mountains and into high, open plains.
The Rockies, just east of the Continental Divide
With the Rockies now in my rear-view mirror it was on to Great Falls, where I turned north and headed for Havre, Montana. There I turned west and spent the night in Malta, Montana, at the Great Northern Inn. This hotel was no great shakes (I had to ask some locals for a recommendation and they said "if you don't need a pool and a lot of amenities this is the place" and they were about right) but filled the (cheaper) bill for the night. Malta, I was told, was named in the same manner as some other eastern Montana towns (Glasgow): someone place a finger blindly on a globe and where it landed, that was the choice.
The third day was basically a long drive across the rest of eastern Montana into North Dakota. Many people might find this stretch boring and unending, but as I said earlier I was never at a loss for interest. If you accept what is handed to you, you can always find something engaging and I did with the openess and large sky (for which Montana is known) and dusty little towns I sometimes passed through.
Except for Williston. I don't know, maybe I was just tired, but that town I couldn't wait to get out of. I needed to stop and get some gas and find lunch and that proved to be more than I anticipated. I could go on in detail but I'll spare you; my advice: avoid Williston.
Bowbells, North Dakota
Later in the day I arrived in Bowbells, the hometown of my mother-in-law, Gae Dunton. It is so flat there I could see the grain elevators approaching, 13 miles away. I was met there by her cousin, Bruce Anderson who gave me a brief tour of the town so I could take some photos for Gae. Like many small towns in these plains states and provinces, there was evidence of tough times, abandoned homes, and the like. This is not recent, but a cumulative event due mostly to the flight of residents to cities over the last 50 years or so.
In fact, North Dakota as a whole is booming resulting from oil drilling in the massive Bakken Formation. I spent about an hour with Bruce and then headed for the Portal, Saskatchewan border crossing, only about 25 miles away.
In about 1905 my grandfather, John Knox Clark, became the minister of the Presbyterian church in North Portal, on the Canadian side. My late mother, who was then about 2 years of age, documented this and other Canadian towns where her family lived in the first 4 decades of the 1900s in her memoir, "Daughter of the Manse." It was my intention to visit as many of these communities as I could, mostly in Manitoba, and this was the first.
Like Bowbells there wasn't much there, or in most of the other towns I would visit: Glenboro; Basswood; Franklin (where she was born); and Arden but in each place I was able to make some connection, mostly in terms of the churches which still exist and/or the "Manses" where the family lived. In particular, I was able to locate the Manse in Glenboro (below, right), which my mother recalls in fine, warm detail, and actually get a tour from the current owner, Eric Fulford.
In Brandon, the one town of any size I visited, I met with the current minister of St Andrew's Presbyterian, the oldest church in Manitoba, built in 1885. Pastor Paul Sakasov gave me a tour of the church where my grandfather was the first Presbyterian minister, from 1911-1915. In fact, Grandpa Clark began his "charge" there in June of that year, almost exactly 100 years from the time I visited. I was also able to locate their home, just a few blocks away.
Paul Sakasov stands at the entry to St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, Brandon, Manitoba
In Franklin, where my mother was born, I was unable to find the residence where the event literally occurred, or the church, which no longer exists. However, the local postmaster, Linda Fleger, spotted me poking around and was able to point me to some resources, including a local map from 1908 and some historical photographs.
Thus I was able to find a photo of the "Manse" where my mother was born and some other interesing images from the time. The map helped me to locate the Manse and the Church, now a vacant field. It depicted a thriving community with many residences, commercial buildings. There was also an active train depot then where commodities were brought in and exported out and passengers embarked/debarked from points east and west.
After a day touring around Manitoba I landed in Portage La Prairie for the night. It so happened that this community was in Canada's news spotlight that day as they were about to pro-actively breach a diversionary dike around the town in order to control larger scale flooding. The dike was put there to prevent this sort of thing but its looming failure demonstrates the extent of the problem the community was facing. I had noticed flooding all through Saskatchewan and Manitoba, passing by flooded fields with hay bails still in place, and washed out sections of road. As I write flooding is still an issue and has spread down to North Dakota and Montana. When I was there the flooding had nearly shut down the Trans-Canada highway near the town and threatened to disrupt my trip.
Trans-Canada Highway nears Lake Superior
So, in the morning I hightailed it east to avoid the worsening situation, circumventing Winnipeg which promised to give me further difficulties in the morning rush hour. West of Winnipeg the Trans-Canada highway is four-lane, becoming two-lane east of the city for most of the rest of the journey to Sault Ste. Marie. The environment began to change rapidly, from flat, mostly treeless prairie into hilly, deciduous, rock out-cropped "north woods" as I scooted along the north edge of Lake Superior. Pretty lovely stuff in spite of the chilly weather which had come into play since North Dakota. I battled a side wind (and high gas prices: $5.50 gallon in Canada) most of the way to Thunder Bay, where I stayed the night, and again the following day until I turned south at Wawa, skirting the east side of Lake Superior. The distance from Winnipeg to the Soo is about 800 miles, enjoyable most of the way as the highway juts in and out of views of Superior.
Lake Superior at Marathon, Ontario
At Marathon, I stopped for lunch at a pleasant city park overlooking the Lake.
From there the road diverges from the lake until it reaches Wawa, on Superior's northeast flank. "Wawa" is a native American word for "goose" and at the edge of town there is a large statue of a goose, mounted as if it were an F-16 fighter jet.
I stopped at Young's General Store to pickup a t-shirt for my friend Tom Ellis, who I intended to visit later in Grand Rapids. Tom is fascinated with the word "Wawa" and now the proud possessor of haberdashery imprinted with the moniker.
From Wawa it is a hop-skipper to Sault Ste Marie (well, relatively speaking given the length of miles I had already come: about 125 more), another beautiful stretch mostly close to Superior.
In a matter of a few hours I arrived in Sault Ste Marie and the end of the initial phase of my trip. I spent the night at the Delta Inn, a re-cycled Holiday Inn which was cushy, clean, and comfortable; it even sported a heated bathroom floor, something quite removed from the accomodations I would soon be inhabiting: my rustic cabin at Trout Lake.
I enjoyed a beautiful sunset from my window a view of the Soo locks separating Lake Huron and Lake Superior, and the international bridge separating the Canadian and American sides. It was a good time to reflect on 2727.1 miles of generally beautiful driving, with only a few small, unpleasant blips to mar the experience.
The next morning it was time for the maiden (car) voyage to Trout Lake. Normally I would catch the train in the Soo and two-and-a-half hours and 57 miles later arrive at the lake.
For various reasons many folks choose to drive into the lake. However, this entails 25 miles of paved road, 20 miles of gravel, 8 more miles of logging road and, finally, 8/10s of a mile of tortuous, boulder-strewn, vehicle-eating intensity. Because of that last stretch some park their vehicles at the end of the logging road and take ATVs from there. Good idea!
When I completed this gauntlet -- I bottomed out at least a dozen times -- I knew it would be interesting getting the Tracker, for all it's small SUV durability, back out alive but at least I had made it in.
Nonetheless I spent an excellent week at our cabin. I love early May at Trout Lake as the trees are just beginning to blossom (the poplars are particulary beautiful, sporting early, yellow/chartreuse buds). This is a double bonus for it also affords easy, open hiking access to the woods (and bear visibility). Later on some much of the forest becomes to dense to negotiate easily. Another delight is the symphony provided by the Spring Peepers (frogs) that inhabit the lagoon immediately adjacent to the cabin. In the evening the cacophony can be nearly ear-damaging loud, but I love it.
The downside of all this is that the lake is not yet swimmable (the ice had just left about 10 days prior to my arrival), a primary means of getting clean (no soap) later in the season since we do not have a shower. Thus, a 5 gallon solar shower comes in especially handy, but even that is a little problematic since outdoor temperatures bounce all over the place, and it can be hard to get enough warmth from it. Thus I have to sometimes augment it by heating some water on the stove if necessary. Temps can reach the 70s during the day...and 20s at night. It can be sunny one minute, stormy the next; calm now, windy later -- or any number of combinations therein. Never a dull moment!
This trip was perhaps the best in terms of weather I have seen this time of year. Generally warm, little rain. One afternoon, while visiting my friend Neil Conway at his cabin, we watched a spectacular thunderstorm come through. From a photographer's standpoint it was particularly impressive and I had the camera in high gear -- one of the better photographic days I've ever had (Slide Show).
At any rate I spent an enjoyable week just hanging out and doing whatever struck my fancy. There's always a bunch of work to be done, particularly this year since I was unable to make a late Summer visit last year. I bucked up some fallen trees for firewood, cleaned out the cabin, installed a new bed -- that kind of thing. There were steaks for the grill, decent wine to accompany it, deck relaxation -- and always the Spring Peepers for company. Can't beat that! And then it was time to leave...
So, what happened with the Tracker? Surprisingly enough, after sitting in the stranded car for 10 or 15 minutes, the clutch started to work again! It came back a little slowly, but enough to get the car in gear and get moving. Ultimately it revived completely, and I was able to get it down to southern Michigan where I left it for a few months. It is still a mystery as to the problem, but it appears it overheated and would either not engage/disengage temporarily. Any ideas?? Anyhow, lucky me!
*********************************************************************************************************************
My Nashville Adventure
(Or How I Started Out at Jack Daniels and Ended Up Backstage at the Grand Ole 'Opry)
February, 2011
Slide Show
Riders in the Sky
Spumoni and I had just finished a rather shocking visit to Opry Mills, a shopping mall adjacent to the Grand Ole 'Opry complex in Nashville, Tennessee. The Cumberland River lies just short yardage from here and in late April of 2010 it overflowed its banks and severely flooded the entire area. While the Opryland Hotel and Grand Ole 'Opry have now re-opened (the 'Opry for the first time the weekend we were there) Opry Mills has not. It is still cordoned off by chain link fence and only one business in the huge mall is open. The word I got was that the entire retail complex, including the Gibson instruments retail outlet store, will be bulldozed due to insurance difficulties. This in spite of 50 million dollars in restoration effort. It is a desolate scene right now...
At any rate Spu and I, with some time to kill, headed north from there to the town of Goodlettsville, for no better reason than to tour around and get some lunch. Since it was the home of the late Bill Monroe, "father" of Bluegrass, I thought we might stumble on some of his old haunts. We pulled off Briley Parkway and I remembered that Bill (and fiddler Vassar Clements) once lived on a particular street, which I guessed might be in the area somewhere. With no better place to start I told Spu, "Let's set the GPS and see what happens." When the GPS responded, it turned out we were on the very street we were looking for! Now, what is the chance, in a city the size of Nashville, of this occurring? I fully expected to hear the Twilight Zone theme and turn around to find Rod Serling in the back seat.
Jamming in the Sheraton Lobby
This "woo-woo" moment was part of a rather up and down visit we made to Music City. Our express reason for going there was to check out the 37th SPBGMA (Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music) convention at the Sheraton Hotel near the airport. For a number of years Spumoni (his real name is Mike Manetas but don't ask me where he got the nickname or what it means; we have been friends for 40 yearsI still don't understand) and I have been attending IBMA (International Bluegrass Music Association) convention in downtown Nashville. This year, however, we took a break and decided to go to SPBGMA.
SPBGMA, as an organization, differs from IBMA in that it embodies a more conservative view of the music, emphasing a narrower range of more traditional artists. Nonetheless it is a large event with a weekend of performances by up and coming bluegrass bands such as Audie Blaylock and Redline, the Bluegrass Brothers, Joe Mullins and the Radio Ramblers, mixed in with mostly traditional established acts These names may not be exactly household words but SPBGMA has been notable for providing up-and-coming bands exposure on their main stage. IBMA, by contrast, tends to emphasize established groups at their spotlight venues. SPBGMA also has merchant and trade booths, and a band contest.
Listen: Audie Blaylock & Redline SPBGMA
Bluegrass Brothers
But if you talk with anyone who has attended inevitably they will mention that it is a "jammers" festival. And that it certainly is. Much of the time we were there the large Sheraton lobby was filled with jam sessions which spilled over into adjacent hallways. I don't know how many jams were going on in the rooms but Saturday you could walk down any of the hallways and hear music in about every third or fourth room.
For me, it was a little much. To try and have some sort of reasonable acoustic jam in the lobby was out of the question. The cacaphony was incredible. I tried videotaping some of the jams but they are barely audible. How this kind of bedlam is pleasing for jammers is frankly beyond me. It was also clear that the level of ability was mostly medium at best.
One distinct exception, in spite of the noise, were some jams featuring two young musicians, Jay Tipton and Rodney Worley. They have a band, Walking in Tradition, which will be recording an album. I first heard Worley at IBMA when he was (briefly) in Audie Blaylock's band. He studied under the legendary Paul Williams and the tutelage shows. His mandolin playing and tenor voice are similar to Williams, who originally made a name for himself in Jimmy Martin's Sunny Mountain Boys. To that end Worley and Tipton do superb versions of vintage Martin/Williams duets such as Stormy Waters and Hold to God's Unchanging Hand. I'll be first in line when their album is released!
On the whole, though, the jamming was pedestrian. As well, we really didn't know very many folks, as it appears to be a mostly eastern clientele. I only encountered a few people from the West Coast.
The Time Jumpers (Photo: Mike Manetas)
So, we were frankly a little bored at times. What did we do? Well, for starters we heard a couple of excellent shows at the Station Inn, Nashville's country and bluegrass tavern. On Monday (and every Monday) is the Time Jumpers, an absolutely knock-out Western Swing group made of up Nashville music luminaries and studio musicians. Vince Gill is in the band, as well as "Ranger" Doug Green of Riders in the Sky. In fact the Time Jumpers have 11 musicians(3 fiddles) who rotate according to availability. The night we were there Paul Franklin, perhaps the country's foremost pedal steel player (25 _thousand_ hours of studio recordings) was doing a studio session and was replaced by the venerable Doug Jernigan who, unrehearsed, you would have thought was a full-time member of the group. If you like the music of Bob Wills you will love the Time Jumpers. A word of caution: I have been to the Station Inn twice now to see the 'Jumpers and it was packed both times _two hours_ before the music starts. Get there when it opens (7pm), have a beverage, and order one of their pizzas. It's worth the wait...
Listen: Time Jumpers at the Station Inn
On Wednesday night we returned to see the James King Band. James is a hardcore, traditional singer in the style of the Stanley Brothers. He put on a good show, as usual. Our friend, Ron Spears, plays mandolin and sings tenor so it was good to get a visit with him. I ran into Eric Thorin, former bassist with Open Road, and had a nice chat with him, too. He says that Open Road -- a group I followed for years and wrote liner notes for one of their albums -- will be doing a reunion concert at Rockygrass in Colorado this summer.
Listen: James King Band at the Station Inn
We arrived several days early in Nashville so we also decided to make use of our rent-a-car. In addition to the Opryland/Goodlettsville trip we also went on several extensive drives out into the country. In fact, we logged 835 miles for the week, with a trip to Chattanooga and Huntsville (along the way we passed through Henagar, Alabama, home of the Louvin Brothers).
Jack Daniels Visitor Center
Monday, before we went to the Station Inn we drove down to Lynchburg where we got a tour of the Jack Daniels distillery. This emblematic Tennessee institution, born of backwoods moonshining traditions, is so successful now that it produces 30 _million_ gallons of "sour mash" whisky every year, a staggering amount. There we went on a complete tour of the facility, with a "good ole boy" of the first order, a man of large proportions sporting a camouflage baseball cap, bib overalls, and a thick southern accent. He was fun and funny.
Our Tour Guide
We learned from him what separates Jack Daniels from a bourbon: same process mostly, except Jack Daniels filters the whisky through charcoal in the last stage of the process. Bourbon is not charcoal filtered.
To do this Jack Daniels makes its own charcoal by burning "ricks" of wood, and then placing the charcoal in vats. The charcoal lies 10-feet deep in the vats. The distilled whisky drips from copper pipes, percolating down through the charcoal. Jack Daniels then fills wooden kegs (they make their own) and ages the product for varying amounts of time.
We were also able to stick our noses into the large stainless steel vats of "mash," which is the first stage in the making of the whisky. These vats "work" the corn mash until it is ready to be distilled (we were not allowed to take photos of any stages of the manufacturing process). The odor of the fermentating mash at close range will shock your nose and palate, in somewhat the same fashion as strong horseradish.
The real bizarre note here, however, is that you cannot buy a drop of Jack Daniels in that town or county. There are laws preventing in what is known as a "dry county." Now you think about that. Jack Daniels is a major industry in Tennessee, let alone the county. The tax receipts go to local schools, roads, police, fire, etc., and is enormous. But are the residents able to give anything back in the way of purchase? Not a lick (so to speak), at least locally. Well, isn't that a fine "how-do-you-do?"
A statue of "Jack" gazing at the plant facility
Touring the Jack Daniels plant site
Of course I've saved the best for last. This would have been a slightly disappointing trip if not for an invitation from Ronnie McCoury. Ronnie, you may know, is a member of the Del McCoury Band, with his father, Del, and brother Robbie. They are members of the Grand Ole 'Opry, one of the few bluegrass bands to achieve that distinction. I have known Ronnie since 1992 when I was asked to do a house concert with him on Waldron Island, Washington. I knew we would be in Nashville so I sent him a note. Ronnie responded with backstage passes for the Saturday night Grand Ole 'Opry! What a treat to be "behind the scenes." We were allowed pretty much the run of the place though dressing rooms and areas of the stage were offlimits, unless invited. Still, we were able to stand (or sit in church pews) at the back of the stage and watch the comings and goings of the groups and ramble about the hallways at will.
We were able to meet and photograph such legends as Little Jimmy Dickens, Jimmy C. Newman, Jack Greene, Leon Rhodes, the Whites, and Riders in the Sky. In addition the Del McCoury Band was performing and Ronnie invited us into the "Bluegrass" dressing room for nice chats with Del, Ronnie, and Jason Carter of the band. Later, Jesse McReynolds came in with his group.
With members of the Del McCoury Band Bill Anderson
Buck White
In sum, I was very impressed with the friendliness of just about everyone we met backstage at the 'Opry. I did not feel in the way at all felt welcome, as if I had been there many times before. If there are egos (and I'm sure there are) they were not on display that night. I believe Spumoni had the same reaction. All in all, a fitting end to a (mostly) interesting week.
Photo: Mike Manetas
