Yoopers and wildlife

I haven't quite made up my mind as to how often I will be posting on this thing. I certainly do not want to feel tethered to the internet every day but right now I do not really have anything to do, as I am waiting for mother to be ready to head into the Porkies. Plus, I have finally discovered true Yoopers.

Without trying to be insulting, I am absolutely enamored with the accent. There is no way to not sound at least half-way adorable all of the time. But more than that, everyone I have met from up here has eyes that sparkle. Like the brisk pure cold crystalizes them. In all of the bare environments, stripped down to the most basic essentials, they seem to have a constant access to that raw, uninhibited part of the soul. Falling Rocks featured a collection of works by U.P writers and each page clung to the smallest scraps around me, inflating every detail with a life story beating as strong as any artery. Driving along the highway to Ontonogen, we passed two young boys on bicycles, swirving wildly from right to left, playfully trailing one another. With backpacks in tow and no school in sight, who knows how long they had been at it. Checking into Superior Inn (everything up here is called "Superior" something-rather which sounds really hokey no matter how close we are to the Lake), we spoke with the owner Kathy. Originally from Lansing, she had moved up North because of her husband's mantra "what's the use if you can't hunt or fish?" and 21 years on, was completely in love with the place. Mother asked about nearby towns that were significant enough for groceries and such and Kathy casually listed off Houghton and Marquette. "But those are over an hour away! Thats not what I would consider nearby..."

"It is for us!" Kathy responded, unfazed. Her face had been imprinted with that piercing serenity as well.

I could never imagine that I could adjust to a place like this. Indoctrinated into the foodie culture of organic, sustainability-conscious living, it would take a miracle for me to learn not to cringe at every bite of a meal I had up here. But there is something to be said for the warmth that a good old small town diner or cafe provides, the way each beacons you to "hang up your coat and leave cares at the door" as all the songs say, and sink deep into buttery crusts or order the daily specials without needing to see a menu. Sure, you can find this kind of open-arms feeling anywhere if you look in the right places but up here, it permeates the culture.

There are the bits I don't quite see the appeal of. The lobby filled with dozens of taxidermy animals that Kathy's husband and son had shot, for instance. Or the giant billboards that franticly list off all of the churches in a ten mile radius like they were the local police or hospital. And I will never be able to take country music seriously, although I will always have to listen to a country music station when driving through rural areas. Today featured two glorious narratives: one lamenting "I'm sorry officer, but of course I can't drive straight when this little miss has her hand on my knee and kissin' my neck!" and one featuring a distressed female pleading "why don't you take me downtown anymore!"

A few mentionables from the day. As per my travel status quo, we must explore every co-op and farmer's market we find...and we found our first co-op. Down the street, we also passed some time at a local cafe called Babycakes, a 25 year old business run by a woman named Kim from Detroit. They had amazing Glutenfree and Vegan goodies.

Kim, the owner of Babycakes

so much yum.

We visited Miner's Castle which provided a gorgeous, unobstructed view of Lake Superior and I discovered it has the clearest water of all the lakes.


We still have not seen a moose, although Kathy says that she has seen four or five, including one that her son ran into with his car...mother keeps making exclamations of "moose!" into the ether as a wishful prayer and each time, I get jolted into thinking we have company. False animal calls should not be aloud.


We have however, seen a Pileated Woodpecker (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pileated_Woodpecker), an adorable duck couple taking a stroll, a doe nursing her fawn as well as the rest of the deer family all on a short Presque Isle hike. Also at Presque Isle, is the monument to Chief Kawbawgam, the last of the Chippewa presumed to be over 100 when he passed away in 1903. From what I can find, it seems he was simply praised as a pinacle of Indian fineness in the area and contributed a lot of hunting and fishing game to local business.

The evidence...but where is the culprit?

Finally!

One final sighting came at the end of the day when Kathy suggested we walk down the beach front to a  set of pines by a dead tree. There we saw a giant Eagle's nest with the small head of a resting baby eagle sticking out. We began to walk back just as the sun was setting and although it had been overcast all day, the clouds parted to give a rather colorful show.

And then I had a decent little cry. Mother had been basking the entire day, experiencing the full wonder and gratitude of such persistent gifting. I on the other hand had my feet plodding on and my mind flying away somewhere, unable to see our good fortune. It wasn't until we were trudging back on the cold beach with the hot hues reflecting off the water and mother's voice falling into a trance of chant and song that I felt pulled back, finding my discontent and longing to attach to the present.

Crying is good.