Tornado (or not)!
September 5, 2012

Well, it was not actually a tornado right here, rather a tornado warning - dang near as terrifying, in my Arizona-native estimation.  We were just settling into our evening when Pat, our campground’s owner, politely knocked on the door to give us the news.  Way too casually, Chris took the news without determining much in the way of “Will there be a siren to let us know when to head for cover?” or “Just exactly where is that shelter?”

I was not to be comforted until further information was obtained and even then, my nerves were shot.  Didn’t want to stay in, didn’t want to stay out in the wind, didn’t want to hear the creak/snap of those huge limbs breaking off the tree over the next trailer. 

We could see the storm front that was nearly upon us; lightning was continuous within it but rain didn’t get to us until much later, continued right on through the sleepless night, sleepless for me and Rowdy anyway.  The news told us that some areas got four to five inches of rain and large hail.  When Chris told me about the forecast hail, my plugged-up ears thought he said it was King Kong hail, but no, only ping pong ball size.

Neighbors came home in a panic because they had left their awning out and the strong wind wouldn’t allow it to straighten enough to retract.  We and another feller helped (I was important in this endeavor by holding his dog’s leash) and got it in without damage.  A person doesn’t want to wreck their awning; we know from expensive personal experience. 

This park is positively lovely; we definitely recommend it.  It has one feature that has to be unique among RV parks - a chapel.  The previous owners built it.  What a perfect place for quiet meditation while enjoying the view across the hills.

Not one of my earliest rising mornings after the ruckus from the previous night, but eventually, we hauled ourselves out for some sightseeing.  Chris voted for Galena to start us off and I preferred Dubuque, so Galena it was and a good choice; we spent so much time in and around Galena that Dubuque ended up with only a perfunctory drive-through late in the day.

Galena, I’m set free, U.S. Grant, Mississippi River . . .























A small town previously only glimpsed: it remains worth yet another longer visit than this day.  Its most famous person is Ulysses S. Grant; we toured the house that was given to him by town residents in appreciation for his service in the Civil War, and learned much about him and about the area.  The house remained in the Grant family until being donated as a historic site, so the contents are just as they were.  It was awesome to stand in the parlor where President Grant stood to shake hands with all the people lined up to congratulate him on his election to the U.S. presidency, a scene reflected in a period drawing onsite.

Galena is named for nearby lead mines; it was once an extremely large and important river port.  We were told that during the Civil War years, the Galena River silted up, causing the cessation of large water shipping.  Most impressive is how the historic quality has been retained, both in the bustling downtown and throughout other residential and commercial areas.  It is a most charming place and seems to be economically viable judging by the wide diversity of businesses booming.  I love that they have not succumbed to chain store construction - what few chains there are have accommodated themselves in historic structures.






















I felt liberated when I discovered a hiking trail atop the levee that protects the town from its river.  We had a nice brisk walk for a couple of miles and got a life bird in the process - a broad-winged hawk.

The levee and floodgates are necessary because of the Galena’s proximity to the Mississippi; its floodwaters back into this river and raise it to levels that would flood the town.

We had anticipated spending time on or around the Mississippi, a river that entices me strongly, but ran out of day.  There are quite a few places on it here that looked as if they would be fun kayaking, so perhaps that is a future need to return.  We previously kayaked on the big waterway and had a great time.  I would never have done it on my own, sounded way too intimidating, but Chris pushed and I followed.  Seems like the least I can do is to agree to some of his cockamamie schemes since he mostly agrees to mine.

The lure to tour the Belvedere Mansion was strong enough to pull us in.  A most impressive house up on the bluff and a bit of a pricey tour, the result was fairly disappointing.  Built in 1857, the structure itself is wonderful, but it seems to be a depository for the owners’ extensive eclectic collection of artwork, statuary, furniture and paraphernalia.  We were told some of its history, shown a few features of the mansion and informed about some of the pieces, but by and large, little was explained or known about the artwork and furnishings.  The Belvedere has been much remodeled, at one time being used as a restaurant, so its historic qualities are left to the imagination.

Caverns, pelicans . . .

There are a number of caverns that can be toured in this country, not too surprising because it is all limestone bedrock (thus the beautiful cliffs where rivers and creeks have cut through), but hours of operation are limited due to the season.  Back here, everything changes like clockwork after Labor Day - pools close immediately and tourist attractions curtail operations for the winter or reduce hours.

Not much of a birding trip this one, but we hit pay dirt in Galena.  A backwater lake between the two rivers was an open invitation to migrating waterfowl.  We were astounded to find thousands of American white pelicans floating as gigantic rafts.  Fascinating behavior; they moved as one huge bobbing barge toward a shoreline, seeming to herd fish ahead of them, as they mechanically and methodically ducked their heads under the water scooping up the catch, lifting their heads to swallow.

Gratitude to Jay’s Bird Barn in Prescott for our wonderful spotting scope that enabled us to identify other birds in the area - great blue heron, Canada goose, ring-billed gull, double-crested cormorant, mallards, great egret and black-crested night heron. 

We watched two golden eagles swooping over the masses of birds and enjoyed talking with a friendly mother/daughter pair who came down to watch the show, too.  She said they always have this migratory stopover but the numbers have been increasing over the years.

Dickeyville grotto . . .

We happily got a little lost on our way home as we tried to find a grocery store and instead were forced by incredulity to stop at The Grotto and Shrines in Dickeyville.  Part of Holy Ghost Parish property, it definitely made the top 10 on my hit parade of things that make your mouth hang open in amazement.





















In a nutshell, it is a conglomeration of structures of mosaic mania.  Every building, individual shrine, fence post and cable, actually every single surface in sight is covered within and without by mostly small, tiny even, bits of hand-placed glass, tile, shell, fossil, pottery, porcelain, stalagmite, stalagmite, petrified wood, coral, rock, ore, crystal, coal, antiques and last but definitely not in the least category - the round balls that were used on stick shifts in cars of my vintage.

It is not only a religious shrine, but has patriotic and historic overtones: one major structure is a monument to Christopher Columbus, including a statute of the man and flanked by statues of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, all mounted of course on massive bases covered by “stuff” collected by Father Matthias Wernerus from around the world.

The priest constructed the complex in the 1920s as a dedication to “the unity of two great American ideals-love of God and love of country”.

For someone exhausted and wanting only supper, I could not tear myself away without perusing it all - bizarre and amazing.

















Finally, a stop at the local grocery, counter manned by mom & pop, the second of three generations of owners.  We enjoyed talking to the semiretired couple aged in their 70s.  At C’s request, they pointed us to some locally made Wisconsin bratwurst - very tasty after Chris grilled them while playing the keyboard to the appreciation of neighbors.

Destination northwoods
September 6, 2012

On the road and just passed the turnoff to Spring Green, the ancestral home of our Martin and Rosina Van Buren.  On a long-ago trip doing onsite research on our many Wisconsin ancestors, I read that Martin and Rosina’s house was still standing in Spring Green, so we zoomed quite a distance over there only to find the longtime owners had razed it and were living in a modular on the spot.  Devastating news (I refrained from strangling them), and at my request they mailed me a copy of a photograph they had of the original house.  We are passing near where our Buhlmans lived in the mid-1800s.  I wonder what they would think if they were suddenly plunked down in the same place but present day?

Several times we have been startled to see signs pointing to ski areas???  One presumes they are referring to cross-country skiing, there being no mountains in sight for hundreds of miles. . .

We have driven past at least thousands, well, maybe only hundreds, of interesting sights, lakes, rivers, trails, preserves, villages, museums, historic sites, Indian mounds, forests, and in Andy Griffith’s words; “I don’t know whut all” that would be fun to explore.  It is fascinating to just go and see what there is to see instead of planning a destination and possibly missing things along the way.

Serendipity, Hiawatha . . .

My shaggy husband had not the opportunity to get shaven and shorn (no, he’s not really getting shaven, it just sounds good together), so I have been the nag since we left home about finding a barber to do the deed lest he show up at the wedding in such bedraggled condition.  Not knowing how we would bring it about until we stopped for gas and lunch and my eagle eye spotted a walk-in haircutter place.  He has returned sans shaggy.

Not as far distant as we estimated, we arrive at the Hiawatha RV Resort in Woodruff.  Now that we are in Ice Age glacier country, conversation turns to peat bogs - the where, why and how, cranberries, blueberries, kettle moraines and such like.  Imagine those monstrous ice floes pushing over this country, plowing into the ground as they inched forward, and then slowly melting, retreating but leaving evidence of their presence.