You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
A brief sojourn at 'South Beach' cabin on Lake Superior
18-21 July 225

North from Oneida County in Wisconsin, bound for Ontonagon in the Michigan Upper Peninsula (UP). A roughly two-hour trajet.

Passing through Wakefield (home of Randall's, with the world's best pasties [though we didn't stop to stock up this time])

Long, long stretches of arrow-straight highways
(some of them clearly part of Pres. Biden's infrastructure grants)

We've arrived, and Melvin's so pleased that he's investigating the facilities with his harness still on.

Whenever brother Eric's been up here with his friends, something cleverly innovative turns up.

Though it's not entirely clear what this is.

A new visitor to our beach this year

Choupette used to dash up and down this ladder with glorious abandon, and she'll still sort of dash up, but these days she's more doubtful about getting down again.

And she is a lot more careful -- step by step, pausing between each.

Melvin thinks foul scorn upon ladder acrobatics, but he does enjoy a good TV show.
Not that this is one of the good ones.

We're out the next morning, and a crowd of eagles has been suspiciously gathered on the beach nearby. Choupette and I are out here to investigate.

. . . defying us to try intervening.

This suggestive beach adornment seems familiar, and may be a perennial feature.

Lunch (and subsequently, dinners) at Syl's in Ontonagon are always a source of unmeasurable joy.

Even half-forgotten towns in the emptied-out UP can have some vestiges of true glory. Like Syl's.

And that whatever it is in chains is just across the street, as is the old codger keeping it company.
This street in Ontonagon is also the northern end of US 45, the southern end of which, 1300 miles away, is in Mobile, Alabama. Part of it was the first paved road in the US South, in 1915.

The next day, oooff. Perhaps we should come back tomorrow.

The fog is drifting off, and we're getting a chance to admire the rustic Palais d'Eric.

The cats are just as fascinated by the graceful construction as we are.

They seem not to truly understand the purpose of this fine piece of work. Nor do we, frankly, but it is attractive, and thought-provoking.

Properly, there should be a way up onto the roof, but apparently there's not.

Cats need to confer about this.

Kristin is prepared to answer any questions about the structure.
But, of course, they can't speak English at all well.

The Sentinel

It's time for a beach walk with our diminutive friends.

This is obviously a something-or-other sort of beach plant. (-- Remember it, you'll be tested.)

-- Come on, cats. And you too, photographer.

One finds such provocative shapes amongst the driftwood.

-- Come on, cats, stay together.

They're obviously committed to making a good job of this.

We'll be turning round soon. We'll just take a quick look over the dunes into the forest.

-- Right. Let's go, kids!

We did turn back, but Melvin took off into the greenery on his own quest. After our several walks back up the beach to supplicate his more cooperative side, at last he's trotted up with a casual, satisfied air about him.

Cats in repose on the back porch

The last of this morning's carnage with that poor dead fish -- four eagles departing for new preferably-dead victims, and here goes the last one.

They've dragged the rotting old thing farther up onto the beach for some reason, but it would have been a fine event to have witnessed. All four dragging it? One leader, and two interns?

Another Lake Superior wind-washed anomaly

We're off for a walk down the beach a ways.
With funny hats on. Well, one funny hat anyway.

Passing a neighbor's cottage that's had much worse luck than we have.

A brief detour

New tilty recruits lining up for inspection


It's almost hard to believe that inspired scenes like this can have happened by random wind and waves. That might make a great Rorschach.

Finally, that's Bear Creek, some ways down towards Ontonagon. It seldom gets all the way out to the lake . . .

. . . but this year it must have been trying especially hard.

But clearly it wasn't easy.

-- Good job, Bear Creek. See you next year.

Very attractive, in its own inimitable way. If it were somewhat smaller, it might go nicely in the living room.

Stragglers can expect no special consideration.

-- And we're not sending anyone back to fetch you. Put away that iPhone13 and catch up.

The Sentinel in her true Egyptian pose

The main cottage

The 'Bunchberry', a guest cottage.

Our newish car, with its slightly bashed in right side after the poor thing got T-boned in a supermarket parking lot. Repairs begin on 12 August, for a mere $9,000 (on the insurance).

Kristin is taking a quick review of one of the greater family's cottages farther along westward towards the Porkies, and will report back on its current status.
This was the first of clan's Lake Superior establishments that I visited, back in July 1997.

The poor folks went the worst way about protecting the property from Nature's waves: concrete abutments and rock-filled gabions. More gabions being paid for and dropped onto the mess every year.

A little farther on, we're visiting the Porcupine Mountains State Park, site of many of Kristin's funfilled adventures in La Nature since childhood, especially with Cousin Rob, but presently it's under considerable threat.
Michigan owns the park itself on the surface, but not the mineral rights, and one of those nasty Canadian mining operations has bought them up and is looking for licensing to ('scientifically', 'safely') tear the whole thing up fairly soon. Michigan, with the otherwise laudable Gov Gretchen Widmer, seems willing to welcome them, and their taxes.

Kristin's stopped into the Visitor Centre to ask the rangers on duty how they feel about that, and they, unsure of what she was talking about, expressed a deliberate disinterest.
We were contemplating a modest, nostaglic hike here today, but one of our party was not really feeling up to it. And he had the camera, so no pics anyway.

Melvin and Choupie taking a brief break, and soon after . . .

. . . taking another brief break.

Our last day -- what's that obscuring the lake water out about 100 meters? Who knows, but it's likely some gross effluent from the Octonagon River just four miles to the west.
These discolorations happen often, but not like this otherwordly display.

Hey, Welcome to the Michigan UP. Fun for Everyone!
And now . . .

. . . cat life on the lake resumes.
Coming soon: A study tour of Kakagon/Bad River Sloughs & the Penokee Hills