So we left you in Oshkosh, planning to drive up to Door County the next day. Which we did. (A tidbit for you trivia hounds: Door County, a peninsula that juts out into Lake Michigan, is so called because ships used to crash going up around it and all the sailors died. So it was Death's Door -- hence Door County. They've now dug a canal so no one has to die anymore, but the name stuck.)
It's a very pretty place, very bucolic. Lots of farms with huge barns for all their well-kept moo cows. Lots of cherry orchards. And boatloads of lilac bushes just growing wild along the side of the road and people's houses and driveways and gas stations and landfills and everywhere. We found a bed and breakfast that accepted guest pets and decided to give ourselves two days to see the area properly and since the proprietress was a bit smitten with our pooch. Our first order of fun was to visit Whitefish Dunes State Park, which boasts the tallest dune in Wisconsin. It was a blustery sort of day, intermittently rainy and breezy, so we had the whole park basically to ourselves. Eliza got to frolic on the beach -- she's turning into quite a water lover (so long as it's shallower than her belly level). Bill went for a bonus hike later in the afternoon to Cave Point County Park. He spent an hour or so being terrified of Eliza jettisoning herself off the cliffs into breaking water. But never fear, I still had a husband and dog at the end of the day.
Next day we drove up to the very tippity top of the peninsula to Newport State Park, which we were warned was buggy. At the time, we heartily agreed and walked the low portions of the trail briskly. This was foolish of us; more on that later. It was a sunny and warm day and the scenery did not disappoint. There were sandy beaches and rocky beaches, forest smells, and Canada geese for Eliza to chase. While Eliza was a bit pooped, we dropped her off at home to nap in bed and took us humans to The Farm. Another of the places recommended by our "overlooked guidebook," this was super fun. Basically, it shows city folk how things are done down on the farm. Or how all the cute things are done anyway. Upon entry, you get a bottle of milk and a bag of corn so you can do this:
This Brahman cow was very interested in the corn but had a super slimy tongue which neither of us actually wanted to touch. Bill tossed her some kernels as she held her maw agape and stretched her tongue askew. She was definitely the comic relief exhibit.
Having been fortified by homemade pie, we made our way next day to Neenah and a paperweight museum which houses the largest collection of paperweights anywhere. Exactly. Bizarre. Why wouldn't we go? It was interesting, but we both left with the same feeling about paperweights we had when we entered: mostly indifferent. It was worth it to drive through the town, though. Neenah is home to a variety of industries which over the years has made it a very affluent community (that is, there were lots of private residences that could have doubled as castles -- very fun to ogle).
We pushed on north until we just crossed into Michigan and set ourselves down at JW Wells State Park, perhaps the cleanest campground we have ever stayed at. Plus, the camp hosts offered homemade cookies and hosted coffee hour in the morning, the jungle gym was like Disneyland, and we had a lake view from our tent. The staff was also very helpful in identifying huge red welts that showed up on Eliza's belly overnight. Fearing lyme disease after her tick incident, we were a little concerned, but they assured us they were black fly bites (which can now be confirmed on both Bill's and my bodies as well).
Our plan was to boogey up to Lake Superior and do some major hiking at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. We arrived nice and early to have our dreams dashed. The rather brusque ranger informed us that dogs are not allowed on any of the trails in the park (but she could recommend a kennel). After spitting at her feet (we certainly felt like doing so), we made some hard decisions. We drove to the one beach where Eliza was allowed for a picnic lunch and to let her release some ya-yas. This happened to be the day when all the little black flying beach beetles (or whatever they were) came to shore to mate and crawl all over us. It was a short picnic. And mosquitos too. We were feeling a little peeved and bugged out, so we decided to drive to Newbury in the east and stay in a hotel to smooth our ruffled feathers. What we found was a cabin that was really just fine, but had been uninhabited for so long there were spiders living in the bath towels. And Eliza attracted another tick after an afternoon jaunt in the wilds. So much for a bug-free evening.
It's Bill's birthday! Just up the road from Newbury is Tahquamenon Falls, where we made an excellent birthday purchase:
Boy have these come in handy. The falls were absolutely stunning, and the park upkeeps a variety of trails and boardwalks and stair-odysseys-to-overlooks in order to help the visitor view them in all their glory. They can't do anything about the mosquitos though. We were forced again to walk at a near jogging pace to keep the swarms at bay. After a couple hours, we reached the brilliant conclusion that these hat designers were on to something and happily plunked down some cash for a couple. Brilliant indeed! On our way out of Tahquamenon we pulled off on a side road in order to stay by the shore of Superior and happened upon a lighthouse from the beginning of the century. From the top we could see Canada (well, we could see Canada from the beach too), and Eliza got her feet wet again and was even game enough to try to play fetch with rocks.
Speaking of Canada, Bill's birthday wish was to cross over this day, so we hauled off to Sault Ste. Marie and declared ourselves and Eliza to the custom's officer. We were nervous about the dog and had all her vaccinations papers ready to show and the vet on speed dial. It turns out, unless we had stuffed her with firearms and drugs, they could care less, and so we found ourselves in the land of the maple leaf. The girl at the Tourist Information Centre was so helpful that we had a number of trips planned by the time we left her.
We tooted on down the highway a bit and happened upon a small provincial park that we held no high hopes for. We figured it would be a nice place to camp for the night. It ended up being one of our favorite hikes thus far. The name of the park is Chutes, and it is so named because loggers built a huge water ramp down the falls of the river in order to transport logs without getting them jammed up. The chute is gone, but of course the falls remain. And they're varied and abundant and gorgeous. The trail is set up so that there are views of the falls below each one, and the adventurous use such opportunities to rock hop ever closer. We spent a lovely half hour or so next to a pool at the base of one with our shoes off and our feet soaking in the cool water. There was a little bit of eddy action going on so that the level of the water was up to our calves, then below our feet, then up to our calves. A perfect afternoon.
Over breakfast at a small-town diner -- one cook, one waitress -- we had to decide how to get around Georgian Bay (look at a map -- it's the bulbous blue part above Lake Huron). We had three equally appealing options, and it wasn't until we were at the first fork in the road that we really decided on one. From our experiences over the next couple of days, we think we chose right. Driving around the northern coast, we stopped off at Sudbury to visit their science museum. We smelled a porcupine, watched a beaver masticate, and oohed at lots of big bugs (Bill held the cockroaches, I patted him on the back and said good job). We then spent the afternoon driving down the scenic coast of the Bay to Parry Sound. We tried hard to get a B&B, but the tourist information centre was closed and everyone we could find in the phone book said "no dogs allowed." The town made it up to us, though, the next morning when we walked along their "fitness trail" which follows the coastline. It was quite peaceful and there were geese for Eliza too.
On our way to Algonquin Park we stopped at another roadside provincial park to rock hop around a falls. This was our first real experience with mosquito swarms. We thought we knew buggy. We didn't know from buggy. This was buggy. But we had our super hats and gave the dog a drop of deet on the back of her neck. So we survived. And the falls were pretty and gave us a puzzle of rocks to navigate. Feeling a little bit like wimpy city folk, we tentatively inquired about the bug factor of a canoe trip inside Algonquin and were assured we'd have no bug issues. They were right. It was a sublime couple of hours on Canoe Lake (even after Eliza accidently stepped off ship and it rained nicely for a quarter of an hour). It turns out we'd put ourselves on a sort of ghost tour on the lake. The map the guide handed us of the lake noted places where notable things occurred in relation to famous Canadian painter Tom Thompson. He drowned on the lake under suspicious circumstances that still remain a mystery. So we'd be paddling along and glance at the map and notice, "here was where Thompson's body was recovered" or "Thompson's overturned canoe was found drifting here." Spooky. What was really fun was paddling around the girl's summer camp that takes up an island in the lake. Camp Wapomeo (which is only $2100 for two weeks) looks to be the quintessential camp experience that every child thinks camp should be. Then as we were heading into the bay to return our canoe, Eliza got very excited. Either the prospect of land was overwhelming or the duck off starboard really got her in a tizzy, but in any case she almost flipped the canoe about a hundred feet from the dock. I had to pin her against my back while Bill steered us in, and just in time as Eliza's back legs went overboard just as the dock was reached. She was absolutely inconsolable. She squeaked and squeaked and trembled for 15 minutes, just happy to be back on terra firma. She was too tired on our way out to even notice we stopped to look at a momma moose and calf on the side of the highway.
We stayed the night just outside Algonquin (we drove through the campgrounds but knew with one step outside the car we'd be eaten all night long). There was a lodge in the park that was pet friendly -- for only $165/human and $25/canine. Uh. No. So we opted to stay at the mom and pop where we could eat at the Shell station down the street (really! and it was good!) and they served us a filling breakfast in the morning. We returned the next morning to Algonquin because there's just too much to do there (it's about twice the size of Delaware). A trail recommended to us was the Track and Tower, which hits a number of interesting places in the park where man has come and gone. There used to be a railway through the area for logging (more efficient than rivers), and there are remnants of the track and trestles and bridges, although nature has done a superb job of removing vestiges. And we also trekked up to the top of the big hill (a mountain in these parts) to where a fire tower used to be situated. It was quite a trek (especially for a pregnant lady), but the view was worth it, as was the milkshake reward at the bottom.
Wow. We've done a lot. When we left Algonquin, we headed south down the highway. Although it's all private land, it looks essentially no different from the park -- people keep the trees where they are. The dense forest and lakes and rivers make the area astonishingly beautiful. As we were driving through a little town, our eyes were drawn to a roadside falls, and lo and behold, the house next door is a bed and breakfast! We "splurged" on their whirlpool suite and fell asleep with tired but well-soaked legs while listening to the water plunge under our window. What a find!
Finally we get to today. We continued south toward civilization with a stop-off at Bon Echo Provincial Park. They are most well-known for the huge cliff face that is dotted with native's pictographs. Although we couldn't get to the cliff (it's not quite tourist season with regularly scheduled boat rides), we were able to soak up the spirit of the place by sitting on the shore just across the lake. After some peaceful moments, we decided a hike would do us all good and so we drove to the other end of the park for the trail we were informed was the least bugged out. Okay. So we were wrong about previous hikes being buggy. This particular hike traversed through a series of lakes/bogs/swamps. And while pretty, who would notice with all the swatting going on. You know the joke about how many ____ would it take to screw in a lightbulb? Well, it takes a finite number of mosquitos to figure out how to bite you through clothing. Do they work in teams? We don't know. All we can say is that we were covered completely from head to foot (hands either in pockets or inside sleeves) the entire hike and yet we emerged bitten up. This will not be in our all-time top 10 hikes.
Having accomplished our daily constitutional (boy did that one count), we arrived in civilization in the form of Kingston where we just couldn't help ourselves from walking around Queen's University. Talk about affluent areas where houses look like castles! The campus is no less impressive. And thus having two major constitutionals in one day, we retreated to our wireless hotel where you find us now.
Tomorrow we head up towards Ottawa along the Rideau Canal and ultimately Quebec. Join us next time for some French tales. Pip pip!
