This morning Travalon and I set off, and other than stopping for a quick lunch at Subway in Portage, we drove until reaching Rib Mountain. We took a vigorous hike at the top of it. Here are some photos.
There are more, but the internet is very slow here so it's taking forever just to load a couple of photos at a time. Then we stopped for a hike on the Bearskin Trail.
We got to Our Lady Queen of Peace just before the 5:30 Mass. The cantor had an especially lovely voice, but the priest from India had such a strong accent that I wasn't always sure what he was saying. Then we stopped by our cabin (the same one we have stayed in other years) before heading to Shillelagh Irish Pub for dinner. We just love their Guinness and mushroom soup, and we also had duck wontons, and Travalon had a shepherd's pie. There was a band playing oldies, a guy on guitar, his dad on drums, and a blonde woman whose relationship to them was not explained on the keyboard. After a while, Travalon and I were it for audience, so they started playing original tunes, which were actually pretty good. One pentatonic tune had a sort of Mideastern, psychedelic flavor. Then a group of Millennials came and sat right up front, and the band actually talked to them, asking for requests and urging them to sing along. Travalon and I were kind of bummed that we didn't get that kind of consideration for being such a loyal audience. They played the absolute weirdest version of Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" I'd ever heard; the guitar sounded right, but the keyboard seemed to be in a totally different key and time signature. Also, they were a bit too loud for my taste, but it was still a fun way to spend a Saturday evening.
Once we got back to the cabin, we went down to the beach and gazed in admiration at the bright stars above us. We could clearly see the Milky Way, and perhaps some faint northern lights, and a number of satellites passing by. I took some photos with my phone, but they are not downloading to Boethius my computer, so they will just have to wait. Who knows if they even turned out? I wanted to do a Peter Cetera imitation like last year to get the loon to call back to me, but then some other people joined us on the beach, so I was too embarrassed. There were a surprising number of boats on Rest Lake at that late hour, and they made the waves slosh against the shore. I thought I saw a faint searchlight too, so maybe that is from the airport - there must be an airport in Manitowish Waters, since the Single B-Boy will fly up here and then bike around. He isn't here now - he and Cecil Markovitch are in Macedonia. I'd be jealous if I weren't in the North Woods myself. Nothing better than here!
Famous Hat
