Time Away

 So for the first time in over two years, I slept somewhere other than my own bed.  And for the first time in more than 6 years, I slept in a bed I had to pay for.

Last year was our 30th Anniversary.  We had mumbled about maybe doing something special for our 25th, but that fell in the rather disappointing period of what I call "those almost safe years".   I was working, but at a rather heavily discounted rate (for my experience, but it was what it was), and I was ... well, almost nearly getting by.

These days I am most often with my head above water.  We're working through getting caught up with most of our debt, a few big ones still getting some attention, and others we're saving to put in the paid column, but it is what it is.  

Both Ann and I were feeling the need to do something a little out of the ordinary, and the North Shore beckoned.  Those of you who aren't from Minnesota or the area, when we refer to the "North Shore" we're referring to the Minnesota coastline of Lake Superior.  And for those of you scratching your heads, yes, Lake Superior is the worlds largest lake.  There is one deeper lake in Russia, but Lake Superior holds the most freshwater in the world when it comes to lakes.  

And it also has it's fair share - and several other lake's worth - of shipwrecks.  If you are of an age, you may well remember the Gordon Lightfoot Song about the Edmund Fitzgerald.  The Fitz, as it was sometimes known, sank on November 10, 1975, in a storm that was one of the worst on the lake.

Now, you may be familiar with thousand-foot or longer saltwater ships.  Container ships these days are longer than the 729 feet that the Fitzgerald stretched, but it might also be noted that the holds of the Fitzgerald often contained small metal balls, known as Taconite, which were the source of much of the steel used in the thundering steel mills in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and other lake-port cities.  

And the twenty-nine crewmen who all died when the Fitzgerald sank are still lost.  One is known to be laying on the bed of the lake not too far from the two parts of the Fitz - the rear section being inverted on the lake floor, while the forward section is upright and some 200 feet away.  

But we were nowhere near the resting place of the Fitz.  We did pass through Duluth and Two Harbors as we headed up to Cascade Lodge, a small family-run resort that is some ten or so miles south of Grand Marais.  We got there Friday night and settled into unit 5B, so if you go to this page, you can see the unit we were in - it's the one in the middle.  I honestly do not know what we paid for the stay - it was not much.  I don't think we spent more than about $60 a night, which was pretty nice.  The room was not overly fancy - we had a double bed (or maybe it was queen sized), our own bathroom, mini fridge, microwave, and TV.  And we had a beautiful view of the lake.  

Friday night we at at the restaurant on the property, and the food was very good.  The next day we headed north to Grand Marais, and did a lot of walking around.  We got brunch at the Blue Water Cafe, which was fantastic.  We wanted good food, nothing fancy, and boy did we get so much better than that.  Then we wandered around town, hitting the Lake Superior Trading post, a coffee shop, wandered into a local art gallery, then we visited the Ben Franklin store and the local Fudge shop before we absconded back to our room to rest for a while.  

We then decided to splurge, and headed south to Bluefin Bay, where we honeymooned 31 years ago this week.  The place was packed, including the restaurant, we hadn't known to call ahead for reservations, so we ate in the bar, then came back to our room.  We got loaded up and checked out Sunday morning, and headed south to visit a few places.

While we were in Grand Marais, our weaknesses did take hold.  My wife got coffee, and we did pick up a few books.  My wife got one about the hidden gems on 61, the state highway that runs up the north shore, while I, ever the greedy one, picked up a book about the less-notable shipwrecks on the lake, and also got a book which was about the Lodge we were staying in.  I did make the mistake of reading the entire book Saturday afternoon, but I am glad because it did permit me to take a short little walk with my wife Sunday Morning.

It seems the lodge we stayed at really started being developed into a resort in the late 1920s.  Things really got rolling in 1927, and after a few bobbles, in the mid 1930s, another family decided to take over running the place.  And one of the people who came to assist brought a gentleman who was a Scoutmaster.  And in the late 1960s, a young man by the name of Douglas Shortley earned his Eagle Scout rank.  

A few years later Mr. Shortley found himself as a member of our military in the jungles of southeast Asia, where he died.  And so, to honor him, his Scoutmaster and the members of his Troop built a trail and a bridge across a creek.  That bridge is marked with a bronze plaque to remember Mr. Shortley.  And, being an Eagle Scout, I felt it was necessary to go pay my respects.  Which I did.  It's often said when an Eagle Scout earns his award, he's created a line in his obituary.  Now, as a boy, which most of us are when we earn that award, it's something that flies right over your head.  I mean, in school we were occasionally given assignments to write our own obituaries, but once I was in High School, I do not recall any such assignment.  Though I was also fortunate in that I did not lose any of my high school classmates until after we graduated.  Of course, then I got older, fortunately, and these days, the weight of that "part of your obituary" is beginning to feel a little more noticeable.

I do not think I'm dying, and I'm in adequate health.  I can get up in the morning, move around, and get things done.  Beyond that, yes, I have to get in better shape.  But this is more about our trip up and back down the North Shore.

So Sunday morning, after checking out, I followed my wife's directions, mostly, to stop and visit places she wanted to see from her book.  Some were closed, as we're past the usual tourist season up there, but some - mostly scenic overlooks and wayside rests - and state parks - were open.  And we visited.

One allowed her to hike down to the lakeshore.  I should probably note some of the geology of the place.  As we were a bit short on actual eye-witness statements, we're going to have to rely on geologist speculation, but it seems likely that Lake Superior formed as the result of a series of fissures in the earth's crust.  Some of these were formed when a fairly hefty load of ice rested on top of them, so the space beneath the glacier was filled with volcanic rock cooled by ice.  As the glaciers retreated and melted, well, things kind of rebounded - and the shoreline is a long mix of plateaus some ten feet or so above the usual water level, while others are several hundred feet - or so it seems to me.  

I believe Palisade Head, one of the most terrifying drives I've ever taken, rises about 150 or so feat above the water.  Of course, it is topped by a radio broadcast tower that's probably another hundred feet tall, but when you're standing on the hard rock top of that hill, and looking out at the lake or up at that tower, you feel incredibly insignificant.  A bit further down the shore, we stopped at the Split Rock lighthouse, where they do a regular exhibit about the lake, and the Edmund Fitzgerald.  

We then stopped in Two Harbors for gas, ended up in Duluth, about two hours (with no stops) for dinner at the Black Woods Grill and Bar in Duluth.  I am no gourmet.  I'm no restaurant reviewer.  I'm also very sad.  The saddest part is that this restaurant is roughly two and a half hours from my home.  And their grilled meatloaf sandwich was ... well, let's just say it's probably good that they are as far away as they are.  Two pieces of Texas Toast, toasted, then a slice of GOOD meatloaf with (at my request, they replaced the pepper jack cheese with) Cheddar Cheese, a little bit of alfredo sauce, a few fried onion strips, and some "agate sauce" which was seasoned sour cream.  And there worst thing about this sandwich is eventually you finish it.  And then you have a sad, as my dogs might suggest.

My wife got some build-your-own-mac-and-cheese, which was much higher class than you might think.  This place was most definitely NOT a low-brow diner - not that we'd have had a problem if it was.  It was just damned good food.  Excellent service, a wonderful, high-end decor, and ... well, it was a nice memory to end the trip - kind of.

Then we stopped on the way home in Hinkley, to visit Tobies, and get the bakery fix, and then head straight home.

And I was smart enough to take today off to "recover" from the weekend.  So back to "normal" tomorrow, such as it is.  I'm sure I'll have plenty to do.  

I hope I soon figure out how to connect my phone to the computer to pull the pictures.  Then again, with all of the USB "Standards" who the hell knows if I have an appropriate cable.  Oh well.  Further experiments to occur.  Watch this space for details.