in the realm of the fictionman

A Motley Group?

Left to right:

Dad, Me, Bill, Mark, Chad, Nick

There are other pictures I'm still sorting, so little by little, eh?

Vacation Journal, Part IV

Thursday - really morning, 9:00, 44 degrees
Gonna be a slow start today. I woke past 8:00. Breakfast hasn't even started yet. Bill threw up, and Mark is still sleeping. According to the log book, fishing was good last week, but at specific places we're not finding [the prior group mentioned places by names we don't know...]. They probably had different weather. What we need is a break in the weather. Maybe today. Or maybe I'll get more reading done.

Sunset, 10:00, 45 degrees
We did get as warm as 58 degrees. Today was the best fishing weather yet. I read and napped. Bill and Mark spent their day in bed sick. Maybe flu they could have picked up running to [Lodge] the other day. Most of us never did see Mark today, and Bill only for a couple hours.

Nick and Chad spend three hours fishing, and caught one. Total for the week about six, which we had for dinner earlier.

Dragonflies go through a pupa stage that looks a bit beetle-like. Today we watched a dozen or so emerge from those shells as proper dragonflies. Very neat. They come out through the back, head first, until they're hanging by their tails. Eventually they do this sit up type exercise so they can grab the shell and hang on to the old shell while their wings unfold. The whole process takes a couple hours. But apparently they eat skeeters (amongst flies and other bugs), so this island must be something of a paradise buffet for them. Now I kind of wish I had taken the picture of the process I had considered takign previously. [They blend in very well with the cabin wall, and the camera that I had was too automatic to get a good picture of it.]

I am going to miss that sauna. It feels like getting clean from the inside out. It's soothing and relaxing more than any shower. It's a bit lik soaking in a bath, but not the same.

I have to admit to myself that I miss Amy and Jareth. If they were here I could live like this months at a time, if not forever. The weather has kept us mostly inside, which leaves less to do. I have read enough for this week.

There is some wondering if we might leave tomorrow. We at least need to make a trip out with some geat to lighten the boats for Saturday. Nick and Chad were planning on just leaving at that point. Nick has places he needs to be, and could use the extra time getting home. Bill or Mark would have to go with that gear run, so we'll see how they feel tomorrow. Nick wonders if they (Bill & Mark) might not prefer to just give in at that point. It hasn't been discussed in their presence.

No Northern Lights, no spectacular sunrises or sets—too much more or less constant cloud cover. Also makes for very dark nights with few stars. We've seen the moon once the whole time. It's very dark out now. I can't make out the dock on the river right now.

Dad and I are the last ones up, and I'll be crawling into a sleeping bag shortly.

Friday, mid-afternoon, 53 degrees
Earlier today I made my entry in the log book. Everyone makes one. It's amusing to look back on how others sum up their time here. Other entries very frequently refer to great fishing. Our week's weather has not been the norm.

Bill has already run out with Nick and Chad, and should be returning any moment. I'm partly waiting to get a picture of one of the hummingbirds. I have time to write, with the camera before me on the table. I'm listening for the bird [to fly up]. How often can one say that?

In some ways I'm ready to go home, and in many I'm reluctant to return to that world and its ways. Here one can return from the sauna/shower naked and stand around and converse a bit and it's as if no one notices. here one can walk out in the night and just go over the porch rail. Here the traditional rules of an uptight society have no merit. There is no need for them. There is a freedom here that I know I must surrender tomorrow.

Some groups bring families here, and I can see how the atmosphere would be totally different. With family would come society with its expectations and restrictions. I would love to be able to raise Jareth with this sense of freedom, this deep spiritual connectedness, but I know our society will not react positively.

In [Australian] Aboriginal culture, children learn about their bodies and sexuality by watching their parent. They have no shame of their bodies, none of the hangups we so excel at. I wonder what the compromise point can be. Amy and I have so much to talk about, so much I want to share. I do very much love that about our relationship.

Conversations here, while sometimes very deep, lack the intimacy that allows for the best dialogue. There is a lot of sharing, but sometimes people forget to listen. Reminiscent of both the best and worst of family table talk.

Some time between 9:00 and 10:00, 49 degrees
I've gotten into the habit of checking the thermometer outside when I start writing. I look at the clock as infrequently as possible.

We've done the evening sauna, and now we're winding down for the last night. Most of the cleanup is done. All that's really left is mopping the floor, which we'll do as we leave.

Tomorrow we get up as early as we can to get started. I hope to remember to notw the mileage on the car before we get out, but I don't expect any more entries past this one. I still have the vast majority of this book left. I'll find other, similar uses for it then.

Once we're out of here, we'll make the boat trip back to [Lodge]. The way the boats are acting, the 45 minute trip will take 1-2 hours. From there we sqaure up some final expenses and drive the 45 minutes or so to town for breakfast.

The expectation then is lunch in Duluth. We'll start off caravanning with CB radios. How long that will last we dont' kow. We've discussed the option of changing car loads depending on how they [Bill and Mark] feel. I'd drive one and dad would drive the other. Bill and Mark may also catch a motel en route.

Apparently we can expect to be back at Dad's around 2am. That would put me home at 3:00. That may assime some greater-than-speed-limit driving. Getting up here certainly did.

Quick note about the drive up:
We all met for breakfast in Bristol, WI. We were supposed to assemble there at 6:45. We (Dad and I) were one minute late, which was 15 or 20 better than the rest.

From there we discussed plans and set up CB radios. Our antenna showed a propensity for falling and dangling along the back window. We frequently found ourselves with a range in blocks rather than three miles.

We did get left behind at one point at a rest stop. That entailed some additional speeding to catch up. My car runs very smoothly at 90. Most of the trip was at 10-15 over limits. 90 was a half-hour exception.

We stoped at a motel at International Falls at the border. We ate a late dinner and crashed. After breakfast was the border crossing. Dad and I were picked for what we suspect was a random check. We had to get out while a guy checked and dug through the car. That killed most of an hour.

As we drew closer, we found more problems. The pontoon boat barge was out of commission, which necessitated the heavily loaded boat trip. As we drew closer we also watched the beautiful sky ahead turn dark and foreboding. At each of the three or four preparatory stops there were additional delays or uh-ohs.

As for the trip in across [big lake]...
It's supposed to be a 45 minute trip. It was very nearly two hours in water we weren't certain was entirely safe to cross [as heavily loaded as the boats were]. We stopped a ways out to move people around on boats to even loads. It's a twelve mile trip. They were a long twelve miles. But we got here.

We fired up the saunas and got warm and slept. (Oh, we toasted to survival as well.)

Dad likes to talk about the harsh crossing he had two years ago. At one of the calmer points (when it was possible to have a conversation) I asked Bill how our trip was comparing to two years ago. He pointed at the water around us, fairly calm in a wind shadow. This is about what we had two years ago, he said.

Bill has since said that he hasn't had a rougher arrival than this noe. If we had had the barge, things would have been far better. The wind and water have been pretty much the same all week.

In the morning the wind will be at our backs. It's also gentler in the early morning. So we're hoping for an extra early start.

On that note, I'll close this out.

And that's my vacation journal. It was a fun trip, and I came back more than I was when I left. As I noted in my log entry there, "What more can one ask for, except perhaps fish."

We dropped off the film yesterday, so I'll have pictures in a few days. I'll get them scanned and then I can post them with captions.

Vacation Journal, Part III

A bit before sunrise, Wednesday
Almost too dark to write. The solar-recharging lamp is going outside, but it's wet, and I don't actually need it. Nick woke briefly just now and offered a batteried flourescent, which I declined. He's back in bed, I obviously chose to stay up. The hummingbirds are, too.

There is less difference 'tween day and night than I expected. It's 40 degrees outside, not that different than the 48-50 we ran all day yesterday.

Between boat problems and weather challenges, the fish total is four or five, although only two came back for cleaning. There are walleye that become food, and bass and Northern that get released.

Now is one of those quiet times again. Except when I was cooking yesterday, it's been a rare happenstance that I've been alone in the cabin for any length of time. I'm rather aware of the noise of this pen, which is a noise I'm not accustomed to. I use this pen often at work, and was never aware of hearing it there. It could also be the paper, which is more of a composition book.

The jambalaya turned out very well. Big hit with many compliments. Nick told me that he has had a log of good jambalaya, and this was good. I felt proud already, but his saying that felt very good. One of those humble wow moments.

The reflection of the riverbank (400? 500 yards?) in the glassy water is very cool. The river itself is a strange thing. It flows northwest, but you can only tell that at night. The winds blow eastward, so during the day the top of the river goes the wrong way. The wind goes away at night, and things that drifted by in the day now come back.

The wind may be the most pronounced change between day and night. At night there for the most part is none.

5:15 am
Much lighter now. Fog rising some on the river like steam. The sun is lighting up clouds and patches of blue behind them. Retreated into the sleeping bag briefly—cold. 59 degrees in the cabin.

Mid-morning
Warmer today. We got a smaller motor on one boat, so now we have three good enough for fishing. Nick & Chad and Bill & Mark are out. I'll probably go out with one group or another after they come back for lunch. It's reading time here at the cabin. I took eight or ten pictures; we'll see how they turn out.

Afternoon, 44 degrees
What usually takes effort comes easily to me here, and the river lets her voice be heard. I think I know now the ceremony to ask the river and sky to favor us. I know how it would sound, yet I do believe it. But all who would fish would need to partake in the ceremony, and I know that most would not. The river knows this as well. The river is unhappy, and the rain does as she asks. I will not change the weather only for myself. This at least the sky and wind and rain accept, and when explained my intent, the rain paused while I walked back. It fell again in earnest as the door closed, and continues to do so.

The rest are all asleep. I would probably not have even asked had anyone been awake. They would not understand. Dad more likely might, but even of that I am not sure.

Evening, not yet 8:00, 40 degrees
Dinner is running late. Probably 8:00 for Mark's chili. Wildlife seen so far (at or around the island): skeeters, gulls, hummingbirds (ruby-throated and another kind), pelicans, Canadian Jays, crows, skeeters, dragonflies, skeeters, some bright red wood ticks [chiggers], bald eagles, skeeters, some finch-like brown bird with white speckles, walleye/northern/bass/crappie, loons [Common and one other unidentified species], ducks of uncertain types, bees, beavers, and skeeters.

Vacation Journal, Part II

Monday, early Today looks to be beautiful, as omened by last night's red sky.

The smell of cooking bacon is wonderful. The coffee actually has little aroma, the way Bill boils it, but the added "religion" (brandy) gives it good nose. Dad brought up Ethiopian Yrgacheffe [which I supply him] for evening coffee. A few of us appreciate the difference, but [Bills way of making] coffee is one of Bill's things.

Not even 2:00
Love you you can have a full, long & fulfilling day and then realize you still have half of it left. Cold on the island today. Still haven't reached as warm as the forecast low of 55. Best we've seen on the porch thermometer is about 52. I started the sophisticated wood heat stove, which was appreciated by all. 68.2 inside is quite comfortable. Bill has been reading up on the loons that make these waters their home. It's so delightfully easy to flow surrounded by river. Constant reminder of how spiritual a place this is.

9:15 [pm]
There's a clock on the wall. It's loud when it's the only noise, which is not rare. Homage to the spirits, including Southern Comfort. Much drinkin' has been done by all, including me. Hence the handwriting. No sauna tonight. I'm not sure anyone's sober enough to think to light it. I'd probably enjoy one. I've mentioned it more than once, but no one did anything, so I gess no sauna. Just hanging out on the porch. There are gonna be a lot of hung over skeeters.

Tuesday, going on 11am
I had to check to see what day it is. We all slept in till damn near 9. Some woke as early as 8, and started breakfast, which got the rest up. Looks to be chilly again today.

Bill and his brother-in-law Mark had planned to make a trip to [the local Lodge] yesterday, but read the omens that said stay (bad motor, bad weather, cold & wet). They're making another go of it today. We'll light up the sauna in a bit, and it'll be toasty upon their return.

There is a clock in the cabin, but I check it seldom. When the wind is calm a beautiful silence decends upon the island. In those moments the clock's ticking is the only proof or reminder that time exists. There is little need for time here.

Almost 4:00
Bill and Mark radioed in to say they were fishing on way back. We just got hail. We'll see if they get back sooner. [They were down wind, and got the hail minutes after it stopped for us]

I've been slaving over the stove, which really just means stirring jambalaya every hour...

Night, somewhere around 10
Although no one says grace or anything like that, there is a noticeable Christian bent. I'm the most un-Christian one here, with Dad as the second. We have distinct christian—not sure which flavors. Chad is recently into it, and maybe at bit judging. I made a mental note earlier not to get into deep arguments with him.

It's past 10:00 and finally dark out. There was a very beautiful full double rainbow earlier.

The Vacation Journal

On the way up I took some milage notes and such, but no real entries per se until I got there.

The trip was 800 miles each way. My average gas milage (whole trip) was 27.86 mpg. Best tank was 30.7, worst was 24.9.

I'll put the entries in as I wrote them, so the grammar gets lazy now and then... Bracketed and italicized notes are my additions as editor. :-)
Also, I'm editing out the actual location names, since it's a private cabin. Getting there involves a long drive, getting on boats at a lodge, crossing a lake and heading up a river. The cabin is on a privately owned island.

Sunday, Fathers' Day
Sunrise was about 5:30. Sunset last night at 9:30. Few made it that long. I didn't. Up with sunrise today. Coffee good with brandy. Bottle's not gonna last. Bacon & eggs.

Mid-Morning
Lake was wet. Really damn wet. Over water, under water—semantics. Wind, chop, the kind of splash and spray that'll push you over if you're not aware. My feet were dry (good boots!), so no big deal except for the shivering and stiff fingers. Just be. Agree to do cold and wet. It was fun, and made the beer taste better—when things were still enough to get it to mouth. You drink some, you lose some.

The cabin is very cool. 160 degree sauna you appreciate after the lake. Gave Dad his Fathers' Day flask just 'fore breakfast.

Four out fishing, leaving Dad and I to relax. Coffee also good with our friend Jack [Daniels]. Time for more, methinks...

Early afternoon, rain at the cabin
Lazy time, just sitting around. Maybe/probably when the rain stops they'll take the boats back out. My expectation is to go out with the next group.

The group I like, although I think Chad the least. He's about my age, but ends up seeming the youngest of the group. He seems like a kid in his own way like that. He's also the only one not a father.

He's also said a bit too much about his church talking about pagans being bad. I can't tell how strongly he feels that, but he hasn't seemed to figure out or notice my own leanings on that matter. We'll see if there end up being some interesting arguments...

Mid-afternoon
Strange crew. Odd mix of knowledge. [I did cut some stuff here...]