Reversing direction
 Sept. 10-12, 2012

Time to turn back toward Arizona!  Final destination reached, direction reversed: homeward bound.

1659 explorers . . .

We were not too long on the road before we spotted a historical marker and managed to pull the rig over to check it out, a maneuver that does not always work out.  The plaque explained that the first white men, Frenchmen Radisson and Groseilliers, were in this region in 1659, encountering the Sioux Indians which were supplanted by the Ottawa tribe.  Now it is the home of Ojibway/Chippewa Indians on the current Lac Court Oreilles Reservation.

This is part of what I learned about the pair from Wikipedia: "Pierre-Esprit Radisson (1636–1710) was a French-Canadian fur trader and explorer. He is often linked to his brother-in-law Médard des Groseilliers who was about 20 years older. The decision of Radisson and Groseilliers to enter the English service led to the formation of the Hudson's Bay Company.
Born near Avignon in 1636 or possibly 1640, he came to New France at an early age. While out duck-hunting (probably in 1651) he was captured by the Mohawks but was adopted by his captors. He learned their language and way of life and joined them in their wars. While out hunting with an Algonquin and three Mohawks the captives killed their captors and escaped but were quickly hunted down. The Algonquin was killed and Radisson was tortured until he was rescued by his Indian 'family'. He later escaped to Fort Orange (Albany) where he served as an interpreter. For some reason he was sent to Europe along with a Jesuit priest. He returned to Trois-Rivières, Quebec in 1657^[1] or 1654(^[2] where he found his half-sister married to Groseilliers."

It is fascinating to me to imagine these people and others who ventured into unmapped territories with no idea of what they would find and who survived hostiles, diseases, predatory animals and natural dangers by using only their skills.  And what kind of person is willing even to wander into those kinds of conditions?

Visiting with cousins . . .

Now back to our pale-in-comparison adventure: we were so pleased that our last-minute plans to meet cousins Fred and Carolyn Blake were successful.  They kindly met us at a place convenient to park Toter/Totee and took us to their beautiful home, situated on an incredible wooded 162 acres encompassing their very own 23-acre lake.  Their wonderfully designed home takes in all the lake and forest views and has ample room for a firewood room (that’s a first for me - I was really impressed, especially when he said it holds four cords of wood and they don’t even need to go outside to get it) and a ping pong table.  Turns out that Fred and Chris are pretty evenly matched at that game, must be genetic - they are first cousins after all.

We had a nice lunch and visit with them and I even came away with already rooted house plant cuttings and fresh sweet corn from the corner stand: turned out to be the best sweet corn I’ve had all summer.  Amazing to see their photos of bears on their deck and patio.  Carolyn said when she washes windows, she washes off the bear prints from area bruins standing up for a peek inside.





























It was very interesting to hear about Fred’s management of their lake, especially in response to difficulties resulting from the drought.  The water level is so reduced as to leave the fish in jeopardy during coming winter.  Another highlight for me were the bald eagles we saw - several at Blakes’ lake and just generally flying here and there.

Redwing, casino parking . . .

Yikes, pulling into our RV park just over the border into Minnesota is surprising.  It sounded fabulous on paper, is less so in reality.  Treasure Island by name, it is associated with a hotel/casino complex.  Its landscaping leaves something to be desired, consisting entirely of blacktop with gravel strip stripes (or stripe strips).  The advertised pool & spa are reached only after a long walk or shuttle ride to the hotel and trooping through the hotel lobby.  I quickly made the decision to forego a dip.

We are outside Redwing, Minnesota (home of Redwing shoes).  The best part of this area is of course the mighty Mississippi and surrounding waters.  We have time for one short bird foray before dark, seeing the usual shore birds, but getting one new trip bird - wood ducks.  I have never seen so many geese - on the ground, flying past honking as they go - they are legion.  At next morning’s departure, I see a bald eagle on the ground at water’s edge.  Amazing to see them as a common bird.

9/11, byways, Carleton College, old country transplants . . .

As we drive through one small town after another, we remember the horror of the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and see signs reminding us.  Most flags are at half mast; surprisingly, some are not. 

Sad to see such a handsomely constructed building abandoned.

We are happy to be off big highways for two entire days because, although it is frustrating not to stop and explore, it’s at least nicer to wend our way through the midst of historic downtowns with their interesting buildings and to see what each has done with their quaint aspects.  Many burgs we’ve passed through have installed hanging flower baskets from each light pole, one of those touches made more significant by its non-utilitarian nature.

How fun to see Northfield, home of Carleton College, Mom & Dad’s alma mater, the place of their meeting, and where Chris attended for his freshman year before transferring to Prescott College.

As we move south and west from the northwoods, we get back into farmland with woodlots; then crossing the big river, we enjoy and leave behind its limestone bluff country and see more irrigated cropland and more diversity: dairies, horses farms, orchards and vineyards.  This appears to be exceptionally prosperous agricultural country.

It is interesting to see how various ethnicities colonized this country and even now are predominant in the places settled by their immigrant ancestors.  The town of New Praque is one example: just one of small welcoming places, friendly people throughout, housed in scattered large old well-kept houses, doing business in historic structures in their town center.  I was pleased to get pics of the Czechoslavakia coat of arms and map muralled on the exterior of a building, signaling the residents' pride in heritage.

The penchant toward transplanting place names from the old country is many times repeated as in New Prague, the nearby New Ulm and Heidelburg that doesn’t even bother with the modifier in its name.

We are so sorry to miss meeting up with our many kin in Wisconsin and Minnesota.  Mom W. was born in Hibbing, Minnesota, and cousins are disbursed throughout the region.  We have not taken this route before - crossing the state on local byways - are enjoying it immensely.  We feel as if we are in an ocean of corn and soybeans - astounding the vastness of these fields.  Harvest is beginning; it appears that most of the corn is being threshed for grain, smaller amounts for silage.

Pipestone, rain, David . . .

Border to border across Minnesota to Pipestone, we arrive after a relatively comfortable drive, made slightly more so by my dozing off for the last bit.  I am happy to report that Chris did not.

I spotted this scarecrow couple with a truckload
of pumpkins during a grocery store foray.

Is there something about us and weather that causes disturbances?  One has cause to take it personally.  By the time we left Wisconsin, we had about had it with cool and wet, temps reluctant to rise above 60, so when we pulled into Pipestone - clear and high 80s - we were delighted enough to go swimming and loll around basking in the sun.

All well and good, we naively conclude, until Wednesday dawns rainy and 51 degrees.  Could it be something I said?  This is our one day here and a portion of it is to be spent having the Toter serviced and lubing the trailer; desperation demands that we will visit Pipestone National Monument with water running off our hat brims. 

We chose Pipestone as a stopover because my little brother, David, is here.  He and Kathy came to call: a great visit, supper and music by Chris ensued. 

Next day at the Monument we donned sweaters, raincoats, hoods, hats and umbrellas to set off on our hike.  David’s injuries from a recent construction accident made it impossible for him to continue, but C and I completed the trail loop while they waited for us.  In spite of the conditions or perhaps even because of the dampness, the trail afforded us beautiful scenes along Pipestone Creek, Hiawatha Lake and Winnewissa Falls in addition to acres of tallgrass prairie and distant views as we climbed to the top of quartzite cliffs above various pipestone quarries.

John C. Fremont inscribed his name on this stone in 1838.

The quarries are used only by the Yankton Sioux since 1927, a stipulation when the site was designated as a National Monument.  In respect for the Earth and its blessings, Indians traditionally leave offerings at the nearby Three Maidens site before extracting stone.

This formation is called "The Oracle" for obvious reasons.

The Three Maidens consists of three large and other smaller boulders, the remains of one large erratic left at the retreat of a glacier after having been deposited there by the ice’s flow from Canada.

We enjoyed another walk around the RV park area.  It is bordered by a creek cut deeply; we spot two deer, a flock of wild turkeys and a green heron.
















































Saving Charlie . . .

As I was out skulking around to get wild turkey photos, I saw a big yellow cat crouching on the back bumper of a class C motor home that was stopped to drop off trash on its way out of the park.  Luckily, I was able to get the passenger’s attention before they departed.  I had no notion whether it was their pet or one just hitching a ride.  Turns out it was Charlie, one of their two feline fellow travelers who had somehow gotten out while the hatches were being battened.  When he saw his happy home departing without him, he was desperately trying to get in the back door.

If I hadn’t been there at that moment, they would have gone out on the road where Charlie would have fallen off and been killed or injured and left behind and they would never have known what happened to their pet.  Charlie was a scared boy but was retrieved from under the wheel well where he hid when I approached yelling at them.  Now I know why I always reassure myself that Rowdy is indeed ensconced on the back seat or in his carrier as we pull away.

Best business name: Curl up and dye hair salon.