I'm writing this while listening to the Jayhawks in-studio gig at the Current. It's a nice and fuzzy nostalgia to hear this band playing with Mark Olson in the lineup; it calls to mind my listening to "Tomorrow the Green Grass", reading the cd insert, and wondering what roadsite burger joint they took the band photo in. I don't think having any knowledge of or history with the band is required for nostalgia: the first listen is like smelling an old textbook.
It is a quintessentially Minnesotan thing, listening to the Jayhawks. I can't go driving up through the northern part of the state without some catchy song of theirs squirming its way into my consciousness. This weekend, "Miss William's Guitar" kept time in my head while rumbling over washboarded gravel roads, spraying rocks into the forest. "What Led Me to this Town" might have been an apropos choice for Saturday, considering its lyric, "...eight shades of grey and I can taste the rain."
So, here are some tales from the camping trip. It's all rather anti-climactic and droll, but there is a good part about pies.
Despite the obvious fact that the girls will not have the slightest recollection of this trip to the great outdoors, it's a nice feeling to be exposing them to experiences that are simply very Minnesotan. It was kinda painful, though, to pass by Split Rock and Gooseberry and not have the time to stop to see the things that Jen and I, although familiar with, always like to see again.
Our trip began dubiously, but it all worked out in the end. After hitting 35 outta town, it became clear that we wouldn't get to our campground on Sawbill, just north of Tofte, until 9:30 at the earliest. The Man in me was excited by the challenge of setting up a tent as quickly as possible. Just north of Sandstone, Neil called to tell us the temps were hovering just under 0 (roughly), and there was some rain. I hadn't even thought of this contingency plan, but he suggested we just stay at their place for the night in D-town and head up Saturday morning. The idea of setting up camp late at night with two crabby kids in the rain was too much to bear. We exited on Midway road and headed north to Island Lake.
We put the girls to bed almost right away, and got lazy on the couch. I turned in with a Lake Superior magazine that I read for 20 minutes before I realized it was from September 1994.
The upside of this little detour is that we got to see Jen's Uncle Rick who was visiting from San Francisco. I'd never met Rick, so that was fun to meet some new-old family.
Back in the car, we headed up the north shore, past all the old familiar landmarks. So many places to buy pies, yet we managed to stay strong and resist their flaky roadside come-ons.
Sometime around Beaver Bay, Jen informed me that we would be taking a left at Tofte. A left. If you can't picture why this is funny, taking a right at Tofte would set the Subaru to floating in Lake Superior. This turned out to be my favorite line of the trip. Jen sometimes says really, really funny things in the car.
After nearly running over a flock of highschoolers crossing the highway, we made it up to Sawbill and met up with the Stalkers. We camped like champs. The girls seemed to enjoy it. Lily saw a chipmunk and chased it around a bit, which turned out to be unnecessary because if she'd have just stood still, the chipmunk would have climbed her and eaten the goldfish out of her fists (chipmunks up there are surprisingly bold and conditioned to tourists).
Jon and I, despite the briskest of temperatures and a lake that was downright numbing, did the manly thing and went swimming for a bit. It wasn't bad after a few minutes, but it wasn't one of those "not bad after a few minutes" where you get accustomed to it as much as it was the kind where you get ridiculously numb and can't feel the water anymore.
I made the best smores in the universe. Neil made some really impressive mojitos, especially considering that we were camping.
The night passed amazingly well, which is just over-the-moon fortunate for us becase we really had no backup plan if the girls woke up scared or cranky or heeby-jeebied. We figured we would pull them in with us in our tiny little 2 person tent and let them sleep with us if we had to, but that would have been a crap shoot since they don't really ever sleep with us. It's a moot point, because those little tykes slept solidly through the night. Maybe they're born to be outdoors; little explorers, portaging 120 rods with a pack 'n play on their backs.
Next morning, had a lovely breakfast, packed it all up, and came back down. It's far too short a trip, but pretty soon we'll be going up for weeklong trips and I'll want to kill the kids by day 3. Soon enough. For now, I'm just glad this one went smoothly all had a good time.
One hundred and fifty three.
Abs putting a hex on the lawn. Because my grass doesn't have enough going wrong for it.
Is it possible to get a bad shot of those kids? Nice try, though. Glad you had fun, you guys have so much energy!
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