The summer's winding down here (anoraks on), but we've got just time for a Pig Roast before we leave.
First, Kristin's off for a hike in the woods near Cousin Rob's house on the far end of the lake.
We're on a bluff about 25 metres over the lakeshore.
Islands in the lake on a blustery day
Kristin, probably looking for mushrooms
The main island, where everybody used to camp and giggle all night back in their youth.
The weather is changing in earnest. In a month or two, it will be -40 on a good day.
We've driven to the nearest metropolis, Minocqua, to consult the local Apple dealer. One of us blew half a litre of red wine up one of the USB ports on our MacBook Pro, and we need to see if anything is salvageable. (Only some of the red wine was salvageable.)
The other of us is off to wander around town on a Saturday morning in early September.
Great place -- pub grub or nearly so and fantastic microbrews. Kristin's lovely daughter worked here for the summer, now gone back to university.
It's time for the Pig Roast (all in aid of the 'Lakes Protection Association' (evidently this is the real thing, not just another Homeland Security front.)).
A festive atmosphere, despite the ice forming on the tabletops.
We missed the "silent auction" and have been speculating about it since.
Excellent local entertainment, with lots of early '70s Neil Young songs, etc.
Now we're back on the Main Street, looking for a book for our road trip. This is the Belle Isle Sports Bar and Grill -- probably with a daunting history to it.
Not a bad village at all, though flat. It's probably more animated now at summer's end than later at -40.
Kristin's lined up to start the Pig Roast parade.
The Stations of the Pig Roast -- next the pickles table. The line winds all round the yard; next the chips.
Handcrafted canoe raffle!! Worth taking a ruffle, except that we NEVER win anything.
Back for a last excursion round the lake. What will it be this afternoon?
Does anyone want to come along?
Kristin comes along. If the paddle will fit together properly.
Our guide accelerates. We have only to try to keep up in the canoe.
Reef. Kristin slipped right over it. I'm hung up convincingly.
We're passing by Cousin Rob's house (and his hydrobikes on the shore)
Kristin's heading back now, whilst we'll poke around a while longer.
An inconspicuous shrine.
(Don't be reminded of F. Coppola's first film, Dementia 13, it will haunt your head.)
A fine tiny island. This one's owned by the state, for a missed tax payment years ago, and has a sign on it "no camping or wild parties" or something like that.
Back to the dock, and off to pack for our Canadian road trip.
Packing. It's hopeless.