Richard & Suzanne & Duncan's Medium-Sized 2011 Road Trip
Richard & Suzanne & Duncan's Medium-Sized 2011 Road Trip
Greetings, and welcome to our 2011 Medium-Sized Trip. It's not really a Big Trip, in that
May 2011 in the greater Phoenix area has been remarkably temperate, with highs mostly in the 80s much of the month (yay!) But the triple-digit terrible temps are inevitably coming soon, and so a quick trip to cooler yet more humid lands sounds like a good idea. Alas, Richard's hectic work schedule doing battle with the forces of Federal bureaucracy won't allow for many days of driving. Fortunately, through a combination of a fare sale on Southwest Airlines, suddenly-cut rates on rental cars, and some relatives on Suz's side that don't have restraining orders out on us, a plan was hatched for a fly-then-drive trip out to see the folks within the constraints of leave time and busy summer schedules.
On Wednesday, May 25, with a 125-decibel talent show capping off a long school year, Duncan escaped the confines of kindergartenhood and started his summer vacation. This gave us a bit of time to sort out just what we needed to bring versus what we wanted to bring versus what we usually bring, making hard decisions based on Southwest's remarkably generous baggage policy, the projected capacity of the rental car, and just how much Richard wanted to trundle through a terminal or two. Eventually (well, about 2 PM on Friday), we zipped up, loaded the bags in the back of the Truckasaurus, and rolled down I-17 to the remoter regions around the airport, locked up the truck, and the cheery driver dumped us out at Phoenix Sky Harbor, "America's Friendliest Airport". The staff (even the TSAers) fortunately lived up to the motto this time, and we bided our time for our slightly-delayed flight as Duncan zoomed his lil' Southwest die-cast plane around the gate area.
Eventually, a purple (or is it an odd shade of blue?) aircraft pulled up at C13, disgorged a passel of passengers, and (once the balky lavatory was re-lavved) allowed us to hop onboard. In keeping with Southwest's "no holds barred" method of boarding, we made a beeline for the back row and hurled our selves and belongings into the bulkhead seats. Clicked in and stowed, Duncan listened intently as Richard fished out the seat-back card and explained all the interesting ways that the plane could crash, splash, or plummet, and how we can exit in an orderly manner and wait to be on the evening news. But our taxi onto 25R was quick and uneventful, and the engines on our 737 roared to full thrust and propelled us into the clear Arizona skies.
Our wee guy was a wee bit nervous as we banked over our house (what is Toobie doing down there?) and the Southwest aircraft climbed northeastward. In almost no time Duncan was feeling much better as we zoomed over New Mexico and the snow-capped peaks of Colorado, and the lights of Denver popped on as the sun's light disappeared behind the clouds in a flash of red. It was noted by the crew that Duncan did have his regulation "Junior Airline Pilot" cap on, and so they made sure to treat him as a flight captain should, and Dunc returned the favor by pulling out his crayons and sketch pad, drawing up a panel and control yoke, and flying the aircraft remarkably well over the fields of Nebraska and Iowa.
A bumpy approach brought us down to runway 12R, as the brightly-lit buildings of downtown Minneapolis appeared briefly through the rainy mist. Then flaps and wheels down, taxi to the gate and through the jetway into a deserted Humphrey Terminal. Duncan immediately spied the way-cool play area and wanted to have some late-night fun, but the parents patiently explained that unless we high-tailed it to the baggage area, our trip might spend its first night in the airport. As is usually our luck, our bags were the very last ones out the conveyor, and Richard assembled the many-linked-rolling-bags contraption for the long walk to the rental vehicles.
Looking forward to a quick start to our trip, we round the corner - and see a very long line in front of the understaffed rental car counter. We were too weary to be irritated, and fortunately the fellow inmates of this queue (with a few notable exceptions) were in good spirits in spite of the hour, and at half-past midnight we made it to the counter to find out what might be remaining in the way of four wheels.
"Hope you don't mind - would you like the Hamstermobile?" Seeing the opportunity to weave such an oddly-nicknamed car into our roadtrip narrative, we agreed, and soon spotted a bright-red Kia Soul with Texas plates lurking in a far cranny of the garage. After a few attempts at this real-life 3-D puzzle, we fit ourselves and our stuff in the Kia, and then merged onto some rainy Twin Cities freeways, as Richard tried to figure out the confusing controls (OK, there are the lights - no, that's the wipers...)
But, after a while, we eventually ended up in a driveway in in the southern suburb of Rosemount, and snuck our way into the house for some rest, making a mental note to check the owners' manual the next day to see if it was necessary to 'pray for our Soul' in order to have a successful trip. ;)
Day 1 pix!
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| Ready to fly! | Zooming and zipping the plane at the gate | In the air & entertained |
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| I can see my house from here! | Studying the setting sun from inside the pressurized cabin | Sky-high sunset |
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| Welcome to Minneapolis! |
After a very long yesterday, it was somewhat understandable that we might not greet the first rays of the morning sun with bright eyes and happy attitudes. But the morning (and Aunt Joan) was eventually greeted, and we slowly roused ourselves for a day of Minnesota excitement.
Our first stop after boarding the Hamstermobile was lunch at a Kentucky Fried A&W, nestled amid the strip-mall development stretching for miles along County 42. Then a turn or two on by the yard sale signs (so tempting, but so impossible due to our baggage constraints) and north a bit until we again spotted the massive parking garages of the Mall of America. We made our way thru 'Maine' and 'New York', and ended up parking somewhere in central 'Tennessee' and disembarked for some serious small-item shopping action.
OK, we'll admit it - and even he'll admit it: Duncan is a confirmed Legoholic. And we're even thinking that he can _smell_ the darn things, as our son made a determined beeline right past the shops, non-stop beyond the amusement rides ("Look, it's Spongebob!" "No."), and directly to the bricktacular expanse of the Lego Imagination (and Parental Cash-Extraction) Center. Dunc bounced and bounded around the displays and stacks of blocky bounty, as Mom looked at a few interesting items and Dad even found just the right wristwatch in this plastic-themed palace.
But even a 6-year-old can eventually be coaxed (or coerced) into leaving such a place, and we wandered over to the Edy's stand (what is this Edy's? Our people only know Dreyer's...) for some frozen goodness. Duncan loved the Cotton Candy flavor, and Richard appreciated the structural integrity of the waffle cone, especially given the heaping helpings of chocolate brownie & peanut butter cup flavor piled above.
We walked off the calories a bit wandering one of the four levels of this mecca of merchandising, stopping at a puzzle & game store to look at the brain-stimulators within. Duncan was particularly taken with a 3-D block memory game, and was able to stack the pieces precisely in accordance with the intricate patterns.
Well, until something happened - might have been gravity, a misplaced block, a stray black hole, or perhaps something else, aggravated by a bit of overtiredness. The blocks tumbled down onto the floor, and Duncan came unglued, which unfortunately quickly degenerated into a full-blown high-volume tantrum - not exactly the best thing in an enclosed space with many hard surfaces and hundreds of thousands of shoppers. The screaming demon was quickly hustled down the long corridors out to the vehicle (with the admirable self-restraint of the parents refraining from giving him flying lessons), and we departed the Mall for an afternoon drive as the sound level from the back seat gradually diminished.
Since we were relatively near, we drove north to downtown Minneapolis to take a look at the new I-35W bridge over the Mississippi, and then looped on the surface streets watching the fans wandering toward the Angels-Twins game at the new stadium. Then a missed merge had us heading west, and then back on course south along 100 (hey look, Dunc, there's where your mom lived in the 80s!) and then diagonally back to the southern suburbs to see Joan and Mike again.
Awaiting us at the house was a nice dinner, after which Duncan and his dad were off exploring the ponds, fields, and rock piles of the neighborhood. A brief stop on the railroad overpass led to an impromptu lesson on hazardous materials placarding ("Son, look at those red diamonds on the tank cars? That means they're hauling something that burns really hot, and those numbers tell you exactly what"), and then back to the house for more family socializing (and the Twins game on the TV) and an enjoyable evening.
Day 2 pix!
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| Meet the Hamstermobile! | Big mall, happy kid (for now) | Delirious for Legos! |
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| Interlocking with the bricks | Bustling builder | See what I made? |
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| Big bumpy works of art | Thousands of little Legos assembled into art | The 3-D block game, right before the disaster |
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| Downtown Minneapolis | New I-35W bridge spanning the Mississippi | Cavorting back in Rosemount |
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| Skedaddling into the sunset | Tickle attack!! | and Lexie patiently waits to advance her goals of household domination... |
Rolled off the beds and couches for a quiet morning, and finally said farewell (for a few days) to Mike and departed the Carlisle home in Rosemount for a full day of Upper Midwest Adventure. Drove the Hamstermobile along the freeways through St. Paul, turning east on by the big red logo of Minnesota Mining & Manufacturing and onward over the St. Croix River into Wisconsin. I-94 gives a fast ride, but is a bit limited in the way of variety of scenery, so we exited onto the winding way of US 12 for a while as we wandered through Woodville and krept through Krupp.
Menomonie meant a meet-up with the Interstate again, and also a brief break to purchase some refined petroleum and unrefined snacks (wonder how the garlic-infused cheese curds, mini-sausages, and red licorice will taste together...?), and then some more speedy eastbound driving on I-94 & the near-freeway experience of route 29.
90 degrees 53 minutes west, 44 degrees 56 minutes north. Getting close.
Richard noted that taking the freeway was like "seeing Wisconsin, but on fast forward", while Suzanne's observation was that Wisconsin was more like "Michigan's deleted scenes".
90 degrees, 14 minutes. Getting closer...
North on 97, a bit east on a dirt road, then north on past the red barns and munching moos. Almost.
Then into a small turnoff, and there was the sign and survey marker we remembered from our 2002 trip denoting the intersection of 45 degrees north and 90 degrees west, and the center of the western half of the Northern Hemisphere (or, for those so inclined, the northern half of the Western Hemisphere). But there were some new signs next to the old signs that note that more-accurate triangulation indicates the precise point is approximately 1000 feet to the north and east - a fact which our GPS unit confirmed. But hey, what's 1000 feet or so compared to 12,000 miles? And so we posed and spun over the "classic" brass marker - the inscription upon which we suppose is technically correct, in that it's only to the nearest minute of latitude and longitude - and we're definitely within that "degree" of accuracy.
It wasn't "long-itude" until we were back in the Hamstermobile and bouncing into the nearby town of Athens, where we frolicked in the M60A3 tank-protected playground along with a local family, and Duncan and his dad teeter-tottered most springingly (oops, son, didn't mean to send you flying so high!)
Once Duncan made his usual miraculous recovery, we drove by the classic storefronts of Athens, dismayed somewhat that the IGA and Hartman's Variety were closed on this Sunday afternoon. Then more zigging and zagging across the Wisconsin countryside, over the bridge in Merrill, and east and north along the county roads closely following the glacier-sculpted hills of this state. Given our cargo-limited state due to the airborne legs of this trip, we weren't really planning on partaking in the wonders of the discount stores of Antigo, but a glimpse of J&P inexorably drew us into the parking lot, and some difficult decisions ensued as mental calculations were made balancing bargains versus baggage capacity as we browsed the aisles (hey! 2" wide electrical tape in colors for $1.69!) and Duncan found a tool or two to fit his mega-mechanical needs.
During the drive, Richard had somehow managed to get his iPod and the Hamstermobile's stereo to have a meaningful relationship, and the tunes flowed as the miles flew - well, except for the times when Duncan insisted on stealing the iPod to watch a video, at which time we explored the near-infinite channels of the satellite radio. This led to some interesting conversations: "Was that 'ghost riders' in the sky, or 'ghost writers'?" "Well, Michael Crichton is putting out a new book..."
We ambled northeast out of Antigo and cruised to Crandon along the backroads and byways, enjoying the late afternoon drive. Crandon was our last chance to stock up on non-deposit-charged soft drinks, and these were obtained along with obligatory Little Debbies and other yummies. And speaking of yummy: just down US 8, Wilson's Drive-In provided us a delicious dinner and dessert served by friendly local teen folks, and another break from the day's drive.
A glance at the watch indicated that although we were getting close to da land of da Yoopers, we still needed to cover a hundred or so more miles, and so we motored north - just in time for a blasting thunderstorm to overtake us and make the final miles that much more... interesting. Hid under the canopy of the BP in Iron River for another fill-up (love that 30 MPG!), and then up 141 and US 41 for the last few miles to L'Anse. Checked into the motel just before closing time ("had some weather, hey?"), and snuggled in out of the rain for a well-deserved rest.
Day 3 pix!
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| Wakey wakey! | Overloading the Hamstermobile | Welcome to Wiscowsin |
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| Almost at the center... | 45 degrees north, 90 degrees west, 65 degrees Fahrenheit, and 100% fun | Monumental feet |
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| Well-defended town of Athens | Teeter-tottering Dad & Dunc | Way too much fun |
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| Spying on the sights | Big J&P wrench for adjusting attitudes | Drive-in yummies in Crandon |
Spent the first part of our initial all-Yooper day sleeping in late and recovering from the previous day's drive. Once we were marginally presentable, we drove downtown for some feeding, but unfortunately everything was closed up tight for the Memorial Day holiday. But not totally out of luck - we did find an inexpensive lunch at Burger King as storms outside rolled over the Superior shore.
Once lunch was munched, it was off to the Bayside nursing home to see Grandma Lois. But more importantly, it was off to the Bayside for the grandson to give big smooches to Grandma Lois. Suzanne filled her mom in on all the doings & goings-on back in Arizona, and Grandma surprised the little guy with an unexpected present of a cute stuffed puppy to accompany us on our journeys.
After smooching and socializing, and in between drenching downpours, Suz stayed with her ma and Duncan & Dad headed over to the lakefront park, where buried treasure was sought in the sand, and slender sticks became magic tools for finding golden booty.
Duncan then noticed the waters of the lake had receded, exposing a sand bar replete with shiny rocks & interesting driftwood (and possibly more buried treasure!) The intrepid Pirate Dunc made his way onto the exposed sand, while Dad monitored the water level. And in due time, the seiche un-seiched, the water swooshed swiftly, and the boys had to scamper wetly through the waves to reach solid ground (but it was fun while it lasted) as the seagulls squawked with annoyance from losing their perching place.
When Grandma was served her (admittedly yummy-smelling) beef stroganoff dinner, we knew it was time to depart for the day - and perhaps get our own dinner delights. The iPhone was whipped out and consulted, and it told of wondrous things like $6.99 lasagna & 18-ounce T-bones at the restaurant at the Ojibwa casino in Baraga just up the road. And so it was that we parked under the neon & plywood eagle, sat down... and found out the actual offered specials were a bit more modest (i.e. meatloaf). But the meals were good nonetheless, and some multicolored ice cream down the street at the Baraga Drive-In made a good evening even better. Then back to the room for some remedial rest as one more north country thunderstorm rumbled us to sleep.
Day 4 pix!
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| The king of messy eating | Legos in Grandma's room | New friends for the grandson |
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| Searching for buried treasure | Parting of the Lake Superior | Walk loudly & carry a really big stick |
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| Mmmm. Multiple moo. | Happy flowerpot people at the Baraga Drive-In | The only thing blue abouut him is the face (and the hands, the shirt...) |
Another low-key day in the Upper Peninsula. Drove down the hill to the 4-way flasher and noticed to our dismay that the long-time local hardware store on the corner was closing, with all items at steep discounts. Again, there was the weighing of baggage vs. bargains, and we contented ourselves with a few useful items that (hopefully) won't invite too much TSA scrutiny.
Just down the street, the Shorewood Forest store had its usual interesting variety of knickknacks and collectibles, along with the bubbling fish pond, which now welcomed a pair of painted turtles to swim with the koi and catfish. But those weren't the only critters within the Shorewood's confines - two sets of olive canaries were twittering merrily behind the counter, an elderly yet friendly doggie was waddling amid the furniture looking for a satisfying scratch, and in the back we spotted a mama kitty and four thoroughly adorable kittens just waiting for us to take them home (no, sorry, we can't. Although it's really really tempting...)
Once we pried ourselves away from the little fuzzy kitties, we popped in next door to the Nite Owl Cafe for lunch. The staff were very sociable, and the food most enjoyable, and we left quite full and happy.
Then up the steep hill to the nursing home to see Grandma, and then back down to pay a visit to a very windy park along the lakefront, on what was shaping up to be a very warm day (nearly 90 degrees there for a bit). Duncan played most gleefully with the other kids, and was amazed by the crayfish (we call 'em crawdads) that was caught by one of the more adventurous boys. But dark clouds were billowing to the south, and as the first drops of rain began pelting us with wind-assisted velocity, it was back to the Bayside to wait out the storm and make Grandma happy for a while.
The clouds skittered up the Keweenaw, the sun made a bright reappearance, and we cruised over to Suzanne's sister Vicki's house for a most satisfying sloppy joe dinner, capped off with Blue Moon ice cream. Then after dinner, Duncan was out the door and down to the lake, squealing loudly as the wind-whipped waves crashed on the rocks around him. Boldly he stood on the rocks of the shoreline and roared at the wind and waves, and they returned the favor by roaring right back at the little guy with their grand natural ferocity. Definitely not like being back in Phoenix, hey?
Later, as the sun drooped in the west, it was time to say bye to Auntie V and roll on back to the motel, and to prepare for what promised to be a much more adventurous (and likely very long) day.
Day 5 pix!
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| Ready for another exciting day | Warm afternoon in the northern reaches | Cant-moose stop at the Shorewood Forest |
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| Fish, turtles, and friends | Colorful turtle hurtling thru the pond | Fuzzy little kittens! |
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| Handfuls of soft furry warmth - and the occasional tooth and claw | Helping out Grandma with lunchtime | Full speed to Lake Superior |
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| Rambunctious play with new acquaintances | Crawdad! | Wind whips up waves on the Great Lake |
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| I'm not scared! | Lego fun for all ages | Big cousin Peter & little Dunc |
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| Another day, another blue tongue |
We were up & at 'em at 0230 MST (0530 EDT) to get ready for a busy day. Hit the road a bit after 8 and steered south toward US 141, with the parents exploring the odder channels of the satellite radio while Duncan created Lego contraptions in the back seat.
The fire siren was howling as we entered Crystal Falls, which startled us a bit, and we thought a visit to the seemingly trapped-in-time Ben Franklin store on the steeply-angled main street would be a pleasant diversion. But this county is in Central Time, and we'd arrived too early for opening. Not letting this discourage us, we kept on US 2 as it dipped briefly into Wisconsin, and then popped back into Michigan over near Iron Mountain. Highway 2 is also a Corridor Of Giants in this area, with the smiling face of Big John the iron miner (across from a humongous concrete bear) wishing us well on this June morning.
Escanaba in da daylight is a very nice place, as a turn away from the main road took us by the awnings and shopfronts down to the harbor, where Duncan entertained himself by rearranging the driftwood and his parents appreciated the fresh cool lake breezes.
From here east, route 2 curves along the shores of Lake Michigan, running on by quaint motels, roadside parks, and the occasional mangled porcupine. Some more driving moved us into Manistique, where adjacent to the harbor (and the Pizza Hut) are a stout pair of sturdy pirate vessels, which were promptly commandeered by the fearless Cap'n Duncan while his parents obtained some edibles with a few pieces o' eights.
The fuel gauge on the Hamstermobile lurks in one corner of the instrument pod cluster, and we'd somehow overlooked its slow (fortunately, remarkably slow) march toward that big letter E at the end. But eventually it was noted that the fuel supply was a bit depleted. And about this time Bob's Superior Gas & Grocery near Gould City came into view. Bob's is a true "mom & pop" place in every sense of the word. We're not saying the gas pumps were old, but the pumps read $2.04 per gallon, with a handwritten note saying "pay twice this amount". And once the cash x 2 was forked over, the proprietor tried to talk us into some caramel ice cream ("in my opinion, it's the greatest - and everyone's entitled to my opinion," he said with a smile).
Several miles on, the green hills of the Lower Peninsula (also known as "da land of da Trolls") began to appear across the expanse of the lake, and then we rounded a curve, and there was the majestic sight of... the big signs for the Mystery Spot!
Wait, we'll get to that later.
OK, try again. We rounded the curve, and saw the majestic sight of the mighty Mackinac Bridge, with its towers nearly piercing the bottoms of the gray scudding clouds. We drove south over the 5-mile length of the Mighty Mac as the cables soared above and the whitecaps and cargo ships rumbled below where the waters of Lake Michigan and Lake Huron meet, and made it to the Lower Peninsula side weaving around the carefully-crawling trucks.
Several miles south lies Sea Shell City, a favorite stopping point for the Carlisle clan on their migrations many decades ago. Duncan was distracted from the rubber cutlasses and day-glo starfish by a play ship outside (which bore a remarkable resemblance to the ones in Manistique), the "S.S. No Pets Allowed". This did allow Mom some enjoyable non-child-obstructed shopping, as Dad and Dunc crewed the vessel.
Once the shell-venirs were stowed, we sashayed away from Sea Shell City north to Mackinaw City, seeking that wondrous frozen treat inspired by the adjacent island (oh, fudge! :) Then once the ice cream was devoured, a quick hunt for tacky t-shirts (not a difficult job) ensued, then back over the Mighty Mac and another substantial donation for the structure's upkeep.
Once back in Yooperland, we made a quick recon of St. Ignace, and then... yes - it was then that we felt the eerie influence of the Mystery Spot take control of the Hamstermobile and its occupants and draw us into its uncanny regions. Duncan didn't even want to wait for the tour guide (or even for dad to finish paying) - he was under the rope and zooming through the skewy structures before we could even say "broken plumb bob". Once we retrieved the kid and the tour guide began his carefully-rehearsed spiel on the unnatural nature of the place, our son was, as always, one step ahead: "what mysteries do we get to solve?" The good-natured guide explained that the mysteries were possibly insoluble, and proceeded to demonstrate with water running uphill, incredible growing and shrinking parents, and a six-year-old who suddenly developed the ability of levitating on chairs and walking on walls (although his parents are somewhat sure they'd seen that before in one of his more excitable moments).
After all that wacky physics, a glance at the watch revealed another astonishing phenomenon: disappearing time! It was now after 8 PM, and the motel room was nearly 300 miles away across the deer-infested wilderness of upper Michigan. So we steered the Soul north by west into a buffeting breeze, and rolled through some sadly quiet U.P. towns and seemingly-endless forests. The arrow-straight alignment of the Seney Stretch delivered us to near the shores of Lake Superior (our third Great Lake of the day) and then a quick stop under the rocket-powered logo of the Holiday station sign for fuel and stretchin'.
The sun was slowly setting over the lake (and in our faces, unfortunately) as we continued on M-28, and there was still a hint of a glow to the far northwest as we motored by Marquette. Then the familiar sight of Covington Junction and the final few miles (OK, deer, hold it right there), and we pulled to a stop at the motel a few ticks before midnight, with 16 hours, 558 miles, three big and many littler lakes, and some wonderful memories (and maybe a few decent photos) behind us.
Day 6 pix!
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| Mighty miner along US 2 in Vulcan | Official snack food of upper Midwest vacations | Escanaba waterfront |
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| Duncan rearranging the shoreline | Sitting back and smelling the flowers | Big metal deer in Escanaba |
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| Walking the plank | King of the pirate booty! | Cap'n Dunc and his fine ship |
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| Now it starts to get complicated | Acknowledging the trailblazing Anishinabe | Getting closer to the big bridge |
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| Crossing the straits on the Mighty Mac | The mighty Mackinac Bridge spanning two Great Lakes | Cargo ship on Lake Huron |
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| Sea Shell City! | Ahoy Pirate Dunc'n! | And today's blue tongue is in Mackinaw City! |
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| The uncanny place of eerie Yoopercurrences | Seeing eye to eye... | ...well, maybe not. |
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| You listen here, little kid... | ...OK, I'll let you get away with it this time. | Strange seating hovering on two legs |
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| Defying gravity, and good taste | Driving into the M-28 sunset |
After yesterday's epic journey, we were definitely in no hurry to greet the day. But it was inevitably greeted, and our first order of business was to get a big nutritious breakfast at the Hilltop Cafe... OK, looking at the time, let's make that a somewhat nutritious lunch. OK, make that a late lunch. Suz ordered the salmon, which she tried to offer to the offspring as "brain food". Offspring somehow interpreted this as "you're trying to get me to eat fish brains?", and for some reason didn't go along with the request. But the food was good and the humongous rolls were yummy, and we were ready to face the rest of the... well, the remaining afternoon.
We made our way again to the Doctor Louis and Anne Guy Memorial Bayside Village Nursing Home, where an momentous event occurred - one that human eyes had not seen for a quarter of a century. Due to careers, families, and other minor distractions, all three Carlisle siblings had scattered to the four winds and three time zones, and had not all been seen together in the same place since sometime in the rockin' 80s. And so it came to pass that their paths all crossed on this day, and the Carlisle Family Reunion Tour main event at the Bayside (with a bonus appearance from Mom!) went off brilliantly.
Duncan, he of the short attention span, had other plans, and dragged his father down to the Keweenaw beachfront, where a brisk 60-degree breeze was coming off the 40-degree water. Didn't faze the kid a bit, and even the dad was appreciating the "definitely-not-Phoenix weather" on this sunny day. In short order, a majestic "sea house" was constructed from tastefully chosen driftwood and shells, and its completion was celebrated with a "crab dance" and a bonus "starfish dance"! But the Superior waves were more than a match for the house of sea, and the dwelling was soon "remodeled" back into its constituent components for the next adventurous youngster to reassemble.
As evening rolled around, the temperature dropped into the 40s, which of course was a great excuse for getting some ice cream from the Frostie Freeze stand - hey, it's not going to melt too fast today! Then a snuggle under the covers back in the room, and pleasant dreams of our enjoyable Yooper days.
Day 7 pix!
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| All the Carlisle 'kids' together for the first time in a quarter-century | Mama Carlisle & her progeny | And let's add a kid in too |
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| Love you, Grandma! | Riding the L'Anse waterfront see-saw | One more Superior experience |
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| Building a sturdy "sea-house" | See what I built? | Doing the "starfish dance" on the Superior shore |
Today it was our task to finally pack up our junk after 5 nights in the Upper Peninsula. After settling our affairs, we departed the motel, and made it... a whopping one-half mile before stopping for breakfast, snacks, and sundries at the shops of downtown L'Anse. Now fortified and supplied for our journey (oh wait - one more trip to Frostie Freeze - that's better), we wandered south on US 41 and west on M-28 to the wee burg of Watton, where Cousin Pam was tending the counter inside the white-washed walls of the post office. Postmistress Pam was pleased to see us, and we tarried a while to catch up face-to-face on doings, comings, and goings. It should be noted in this day of Facebook and Twitter, it's a bit easier to keep in touch over the distance, but it's still just not the same as a friendly hug from an excited 6-year-old.
From Watton, it's a relatively short drive to Trout Creek, the ancestral home of the Carlisle clan. Our first stop was to visit Lorena Cottenham, a schoolmate of Suzanne's, and drop off some old jeans and fabric for her to turn into handmade quilts (if you're looking for some bedtime warmth, she does custom orders!) Then a visit to the White Door general store for a tasty snack (are you saving Spongebob's eyeballs for later, son?), and to get his height marked and memorialized on the molding next to the front door, and then to the P.O. to excavate a very overflowing post office box. Then across route 28 to see Aunt Iris, who is always fun to visit (even if Freddy is a bit quieter these days). Duncan came up with the inspiration to have a picnic at the town park next door, and we all (including Iris, her spaniel, and two bonus bassets from a house nearby) trooped to the log-house gazebo for munchies and conversation.
Once the snacks disappeared and the final furry bellyrubs were dispensed, it was time to check in on the old family home, with its faded "For Sale" sign out front. Although vacant, we were happy to see that the old structure seems to be holding up well, as a quick peek inside confirmed. Next stop was at the edge of town to see the indefatigable Cousin Margie (Pam's mom) for more relativistic action. Duncan was most happy about this part of the trip, because this meant a visit to Margie's toy room, including a magic Japanese slot machine and other fun stuff.
The plan from here was to say hi to another of Suz's classmates in Bruce Crossing, but the time we spent with the relatives in Watton & TC kinda meant that we had to wave out the window at the intersection and keep zooming west to our next meet-up (and delayed dinner) over in Ironwood. Unfortunately, our misfortune in missed timing continued, as the relatives we intended to meet had to head out to their own extended-family-related appointments. But a good meal was had anyway at the the Burger King play place, as Duncan found a pack of play pals even louder and more rambunctious than he (and that's saying something!)
As we cruised through Ironwood and on across the state line into Wisconsin, we spied quite a few interesting-looking motels lining the curbs of US highway 2. But the sun was still in the sky, and we elected to continue west and get some more miles in prior to calling it a night. We ambled into Ashland right after a powerful thundershower had scoured the streets, with lightning bolts visible in the rolling clouds over Chequamegon Bay. Now it was starting to look like a good time to stop, and the iPhone displayed several lodging options on the west side of town. The first option was listed as a combination bait shop and motel, which certainly sounded like an unorthodox pairing. In spite of the unpretentious name, though, the rooms were a bit out of our budget, and so we toodled down to the next property, which looked like a well-preserved specimen of classic lodging. It was, but they were out of big-enough rooms to fit the family (and no, Dad's not sleeping outside). Finally ended up at Anderson's Motel, and the smiling & friendly Mr. Ander, er, Patel put us into a spacious and clean room to rest our weary heads.
Day 8 pix!
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| New "bag boy" at the IGA | Cashing in da cans | Pamela Aho, Postmistress (and her new assistant) |
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| The White Door - Trout Creek's home town grocery | Happy frozen transaction at the White Door | Someday, he'll have to come back & show his kids how tall he was |
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| Visiting Lorena, the busy quilter | Playing at the old mill pond | Little goosies |
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| Having a swingin' time in Trout Creek | Slipping down the old metal slide | Every dog has her Dunc |
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| The old family home is on the market | A good house still stands | But time takes its toll on the back yard |
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| Old Mill Town Road - the Carlisle address for many years | That's Mr. Chickenstuffedface to you | Testing out the beds in Ashland |
The bright morning sun was sparkling on the glistening waters of Lake Superior outside our motel room. But as for us? Naw, we were too busy washing up, watching Spongebob, and trying to access Southwest Airlines' website to notice. Did finally peek outside to absorb the Chequameview, and then off westbound on US 2 to get a start on a travelrific day.
Our first hour brought us right past Brule and into Iron River, where the alert cry of "mini golf!" from the passengers induced a high-speed left turn. Unfortunately, the fine print said "open at 11", and a glance at the watch denoted that here in the Central Time Zone, 'twas only 10:30 or so.
But what to do? It was our good fortune that Iron River has a bustling main street, and a visit or two at a rummage sale and a thrift store (where Dunc-size shirts were going for a mere 38 cents each!) made the watch dials spin quickly.
But now what? Oh yeah - back to the mini-golf!
The Tomkat course had just been reopened after several years of disuse, and we were happy that it was again welcoming those who sought enlightenment through the abuse of colorful dimpled spheroids. The bright balls and light-sabers, er, (put that down, son) putters were deployed, and much golfing action involving wacky windmills, loopy loops, boopety bumps, and a heckuva bunch of other comical hazards ensued (although the hole with the very conspicuous "no profanity!" signs was a source of good-natured frustration). But eventually the last ball disappeared down the 18th Hole Of No Return, and we returned to the Hamstermobile with high numbers on the scorecard (Duncan: "I got the highest!!!") and happy thoughts.
All that puttering around did take some time out of our schedule, and so we veered south on US 53 for some more high-speed 4-lane fast-forwarding through much of Wisconsin. Did stop for a bit to see the interesting dynamic signs at the intersection in Minong, which blink on and off in response to zooming traffic to warn folks "not yet!" when thinking of cutting across the highway. But eventually more winding 2-lane therapy was in order, and we exited at Rice Lake and cut over to route 25 for a more-leisurely cruise.
Several miles of driving brought us into the poultry processing metropo-lette of Barron, where a stop at the local family restaurant on US 8 (attached to a remarkably clean truck stop) yielded sauce and gravy-laden dishes fit for royalty. Then the recommended daily allowance of ice cream at Dairy Queen, and southward & westward around the glacier-sculpted hills, as the motorcycles vroomed by and the balloons on the signs trailblazing to the innumerable graduation parties waved and wiggled.
Not long after, we found ourselves on I-94 and back in the Twin Cities metro area, and an odd combination of freeways and streets brought us again to the doorstep of Suzanne's brother's house in the suburbs. Although Mike & Joan were still back in da Yoo Pee, their daughter Kacey was there, and we said hello as Duncan bounced off the walls and the parents tried to figure out the 3-D puzzle of getting everything back within the upcoming airline trip's baggage limitations.
Day 9 pix!
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| Ready to have a (golf) ball | Kitty mascot on the links | A plethora of iconic mini-golf features |
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| Navigate around the lighthouse | Every course needs a windmill | Many angular paths to putt |
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| Family fun with metal weapons! | Our fledgling golf pro working on his long game | I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll get that ball in! |
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| Yes, oops. | Oh, barnacles! | Our three colorful dimpled spheres |
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| Richard showing of his putterific style | Suzanne, addressing the ball most politely | And Duncan, being Duncan |
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| We will - thanks! | Dynamic sign at a US 53 intersection | Pizza burger time! |
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| Cousin Kacey getting her hugs |
When the iPhone's alarm jangled us to consciousness as the numerals blinked 4:30 (Central Daylight Time), we knew we were in for a long day.
Little did we realize just how long it would be. Let us now retell the tale.
The early morning hours were consumed all too quickly with the minutiae of getting the gang ready and out the door, fully aware of the consequences of delay. But we were rolling in our final journey in the Hamstermobile almost on schedule, and we navigated the Minnefreeways and around the monster mall up to the airport terminal without incident. The check-in procedures for the car, plane, and security were remarkably easy and efficient, as compared to our other experiences. And TSA proved it was right on top of things as well, catching Suzanne "pink-handed" as she inadvertently smuggled a forgotten pouch of fruit punch in her carry-on bag (oops). Of course, our easy time could have been partly due to the style with which Duncan nonchalantly wore his "Junior Airline Pilot" hat as he looked every bit the part of an experienced flyer (if experienced flyers wore Lego Star Wars T-shirts, that is).
Flight 1103 is a routine Southwest Airlines "four-hopper", commencing at the small square of Midway Airport in Chicago, and veering up to Minneapolis, where we would jump on for a few hours on the leg to Phoenix. The flight would then continue to Ontario and then up to a final stop in Oakland.
Well, that was the plan, anyway.
The aircraft arrived from Chi-town about half an hour late, and the passengers were rousted and us new occupants lined up for processing, er, emplaning. The pre-board proceeded uneventfully, the boarding groups were lined up, and we eagerly clasped our precious "A" passes in anticipation of a fun fast flight.
Then the line stopped. And remained stopped. Vest-clad folks congregated around the aircraft and pointed at things. Luggage ceased streaming inward - and started streaming outward.
After the better part of an hour, the announcement: "The plane is definitely broken. And it'll be a while to fix it."
A "while" can be measured in many ways. To a hardened traveler, a 'while' is just something to be dealt with. But if you're a six-year-old hoping to get back to Phoenix in time for a parent-promised "surprise", it could seem like an eternity.
We were somewhat fortunate that this terminal has a cute little aeronautically-themed play area, and Captain Duncan and the other kids manned the brightly-painted cockpit and crewed the baggage tug and control tower (although it might be fun if real control towers had a slide out the side).
But even the funnest playplace can't hold a child's attention forever, and more desperate measures would need to be employed. Out came the pencil and sketch pad, and our budding comic-book artist sketched out his latest magnificent graphic novel: "Super Duncan Fights Evil Barnacles From The Sea!" Apparently laser-beam eyes were involved.
OK, it's been three hours, and it looks like now someone's hammering on the underside of the leading-edge slats on the conked-out 737. But still no sign of an actual departure. Now what?
Like many airports, MSP offers a variety of food items of varying degrees of nutrition and/or edibility, all with price tags requiring supplemental oxygen. So we cheaped out and bought a marshmallow krispie treat for the Duncster to devour. This had a very interesting side effect, in that the sticky squooshiness caused one of his wigglier front teeth to come right out! A small bit of angst ensued, as the former owner of the dentition feared the Tooth Fairy would never catch up with us in our travel status. But our boy was reassured by his parental units that we'd put it under the pillow at home and everything would work out with some financial advantage.
Hour five. Deploy the Batman Happy Meal toys. This brought over another kid, and the plastic flew merrily for a while. OK, now get Mr. Freeze out from under that nice man...
Hour Six of our "super bonus length involuntary travel experience". Hark! An announcement! Another apparently "non-broken" airplane had been delivered, and we may actually see home again in our lifetimes! Once more we lined up dutifully, made our sprint for an open row near the tail, buckled in and stowed...
...and miracles of miracles, we soon were taxiing out to runway 17, and in no time were winging over the mighty mall and the spiral-striped Cirque de Soleil tents, and banked and climbed on by Valleyfair and over the green Midwestern countryside (except for those brown flooded spots, anyway).
We scooted above Sioux Falls (Richard's mom's hometown), navigated over Nebraska, and saw big billowy clouds over the peaks of Colorado. And then the Petrified Forest and Holbrook (wave at the wigwams!), over the Rim and Mazatzals, and a swoop over the reservation fields and wheels down on runway 26 at Sky Harbor (Duncan: "that was the most fun of all!")
Once the bags were retrieved and assembled into the "wagon train", we received that warm welcome home as the doors slid open and the blast of heat hit us. But the shuttle showed up in short order and transported us to the big blue truck quietly awaiting our return ("have fun without me?")
We'd now gone over a full day without a decent meal, and orders were given to set course for the nearest good grub. And the towering steer-enhanced sign of Bill Johnson's Big Apple sets just north of the taxiways, and in a flash we were seated amid the sawdust-covered floor and handgun-equipped waitress staff. Suz found the BBQ to be just right, and Duncan demolished his mac & cheese, but Richard's big hunk of prime rib was a bit tough. Make that really tough. How tough? We distinctly recall it telling us that it wanted to "take it out to the parking lot to settle things."
Are we done yet? Almost. A sunset cruise on I-17 and into the driveway, and our medium-sized road trip was complete. Well, except for the unpacking, the laundry, the dialogue with Southwest customer service...
Day 10 pix!
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| Bye-bye Hamstermobile in the MSP garage | This is 'traveling light' by our standards... | Made it by that much! |
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| "This is your captain speaking..." | "Cleared to land. Wind 090 at 5." | Losing the luggage |
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| Checking out the engines | Interesting passenger manifest | Bulbous surfaces of control |
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| Now that's even bigger than ours! | Does the Tooth Fairy fly first class? | Ready and raring to fly home! |
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| N338SW at the gate | Uh oh - plane's busted | "OK, hit it with the mallet again, only harder this time" |
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| The Line Of Doom | Functional plane flew in | Finally ready for takeoff |
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| Mall of Am-Air-Ica | Minneapolis from the air | Cruising to the iPod all the way to PHX |
See you next time for... the genuine Big 2011 Road Trip! Idaho ho!!!
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Latest Historical Revisionism 05 August 2011
Scripting: Richard C. Moeur
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