Wintering Scandinavian-Style

Remember when we were talking

about how much I dislike winter
even though it is a very beautious time of year
at the Van't Hof cabin near BSL?

Well thank goodness Dave VH is making
something out of these wooden hubcaps
previously encased in snow
and now guaranteed
to warm even the chilliest of bones.



What once looked like this ....



now looks like this ....

Can you find it in there?

I know it's somewhat reminiscent of
Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother's house
or, the Lair of the Troll who so
viciously attacked the Three Billy Goats Gruff.

But in reality
it just needs a little more tweeking
and a wood stove
and the rocks that you pour
boiling water on
and a water supply
and a changing room
and some nearly nekkid people
and maybe some plush terry cloth towels
donated by anonymous hotel chains
from across America
and then all will be ready
for the fake Finnish people.


Le tour de la sauna ...

This is kinda the front.

Judy is testing the support beam
which seems to have fallen already
and Ellen is bringing sauna-supplies
of a mysterious nature
(Holiday Inn towels?).

This is the side of the sauna
and we pray it is somewhat camouflaged
from the ravenous bear
who hoffentlich is not at all drawn to
slowly cooking human flesh.



This is the back of the sauna.
Rustic is our name.
Impenetrability is our game.



And this is the inside of the sauna
where you get the full
hubcap decor affect ....




Then, to kind of gild the lily,
Dave added these pretty telephone-pole thingies.

These double as rifle port holes
when under ursa major attack.



All in all,
I think the VH sauna falls somewhere on the
woodland housing spectrum between
this troll house


and this fairy house

We discovered this fairy house
at Bill's cottage at BSL.
It was constructed
(we think)
by Esther Bovenkamp's grand kids.
Notice the similarities to
the structure below.

Almost complete sauna.



Very soon now
3 hair highlights later
and 50 pounds leaner
this will be Ellen and I
just chillin' in the sauna ....


complete with my favourite snack ....
burnt marshmallows.

Re-dunk-u-lous!

I have a love affair with this little 2-lane highway
that stretches between 131 and 37.
The fall colors,
as we neared the "teaming" crossroads at Big Jackson,
were simply re-dunk-u-lous!


But Calvinists, don't get too slap-happy.
Life is not all Kodachrome colors
and pastoral landscapes.
Alas and alors .... just around the corner
(or in this case, down the road a piece)
there's this grim reminder
for the back-slidden
to straighten up and fly right.


So .... ahem,
we were going on a little autumnal
fishing jaunt in October.
The light was amazing, the colors, as we said,
redunkulous, and the temperature mild and,
well,
perfect.
Plus, no bugs.
We put in at M37 behind the Red Moose Lodge.

Drew did a fine job of navigating us down the PM
which included lots of shallows
and low-hanging branches (see above)
and mighty-tighty twisty turns.
Very Robert Louis Stevenson
and here's what he had to say about it:

"Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me.
Give the jolly heaven above,
And the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river,
There's the life for a man like me,
There's the life forever."

Okay, the stars weren't out yet
and we didn't dip bread in the river,
but we did have pita bread
dipped in ranch dressing.

Once again I will wax profoundly:

"More than Spring's bright uncontrol
Suit the Autumn of my soul."
Alexander Smith

The feeling's mutual, Alex!


This is Dale in his float boat
looking like a human water-skeeter.


And this is my house that I will own one day.
(By the way, when the "trout guide" says
you can get out at Green Cottage
to use the facilities, just be aware that
other than this beauty, all of the cottages are green.)



With the aura of Trout Fishermen Past
surrounding the kids
they set off to slay the mighty mighty salmon
(actually, no wild animals were harmed in the filming
of this venture ... not even a worm).



This is Drew instructing Lauren
on the finer points of hanging on to
a Monster Salmon.



This is the Monster Salmon thinking it will
hide in the roots of the trees along the river's edge
and totally tangle up the line.


This is Drew having to cut and retie the line
so as to extricate the Monster Salmon.
Some reinforcements arrive but
everything is copacetic.

This is the Monster Salmon.
He is rah-ther heavy so Drew gets the honor of
displaying His Monstrousness.

And finally, the demonstration of the
catch and release technique.
Apparently you can't just let a fish go
(because they will simply lay there
and then flip belly up, giving you the fish eye
and making you feel totally depraved).
Who knew?

And this is why it's imperative that
you get out at Green Cottage
if nature is calling.

Fishing utilizes its own unique
algebraic field of study.
For every minute of driving time, eg.,
it takes 5 minutes to drive from M37 to Green Cottage,
multiply by one hour for paddling/fishing time, eg.,
it takes 5 HOURS to fish this same stretch of river.
People, you are never too old to learn
these important life lessons.

No Dames Allowed

The following excerpts are from a

favorite book when I was a girl-kid,
Double Trouble For Rupert
by Ethelyn M. Parkinson, published in 1953.




"Clover Lake is a very keen lake with some
very keen cottages where we go for three weeks
every summer. Clayte and his mom and dad go, too.

The only trouble with this very keen spot is that
Smart Annabelle's mom and dad also go along,
and, naturally, that means that
Annabelle goes right along with them!

Clover Lake should not be for girls!



"Well, Clayte and I were climbing into our rowboat
for a very peaceful morning of fishing
when up comes Smart Annabelle.
"I want to go fishing with you," she said.

"Now look, Annabelle," Clayte said.
"We took you fishing last year and
what happened?
Your yakety-yak kept the big ones away."



"You have a very wonderful brain, Annabelle,"
Clayte said like a smoothie.
"Very wonderful ---
for arithmetic and history.
But you can't catch fish with books."

"But Clayton .... "

Clayte came to the point.
"The subject is closed.
This is strictly a man's fishing trip.
No girls are invited."

"I agree with Clayte," I said

Just then Mom stuck her head out our cottage window.
"Rupert Piper, where are your manners?
Certainly you boys are going to take Annabelle fishing.
Now let's not hear another word about it."





Before noon Mom sent me to the grocery store
and I found out the news.
There was going to be a fishing derby
for everyone under fifteen,
with prizes for the biggest fish of each kind.

Swell prizes like a casting rod and a Kodak.
There were sissy prizes, too, for girls.

Before supper
Annabelle was down on the beach
when we went for our swim.
"Oh, Rupert," she said.
"What time are we going?"



"Five o'clock," I said.

"O.K."

"I mean five in the morning, natch," I said,
and waited for Annabelle to faint in the sand.

"O.K. Rupert," she said, "I'll be ready!"




(Early the next morning)
Clayte put one foot on the boat
and made a speech to Annabelle.

"O.K. Annabelle, we're being kind enough
to take you fishing. But there are some rules
you won't find in books.

First, you are not to speak one word
from the time we shove off
until we make port."

"Second rule," said Clayte,
"you will bait your own hook."

"Oh, sure," said Annabelle.

"Third rule," said Clayte, "you will remove
your fish from the hook without help."

She smiled.

"Fourth and last rule," said Clayte, "You will
immediately throw back everything you catch."

There were times when I was really proud
to know Clayte. This was one of those times.

Annabelle stopped smiling. "But Clayton .... "

"I agree with Clayte," I said. "We do not wish to row
a ton of minnies around."

"But suppose I catch a big one! I might win the derby!"

"Rules are rules," I said.
Clayte glared at her. "Throw back everything you catch,
even if it's Jonah and the Whale!
Promise or you don't go!"

"I promise," said Annabelle.

We put Annabelle in the middle of the boat
where we could keep an eye on her.




First thing, Annabelle got a bite.
She slipped Mr. Shiner from the hook,
tossed him back, and looked sadly after him.

Clayte and I grinned at each other.
That was when I lost the big bass.

We moved to a different spot. Our luck was the same,
but Annabelle hauled in a bass .... Clayte and I
kept giving her cold looks until she tossed it
to a gull.

While I was baiting my hook,
I noticed Annabelle taking something from her pocket
and putting it in her mouth.
Very impolite!
In a minute she flipped her line over.
I saw it jerk and up came a trout
fourteen inches long.
Well, a short fourteen inches!
While we watched, Annabelle flipped it overboard.





Then Clayte had an idea.
"Annabelle," he said, "since you came uninvited,
and since you can't row, I suggest you bait our hooks."

Annabelle never said a word. She baited
Clayte's hook and tossed it in -- then mine.
In a minute, I landed a bass as big as a cow.

Right then Clayte got a bite that shook the boat.
He made a big fuss landing the fish.
Annabelle went on chewing.
While she baited Clayte's hook and tossed it in
I brought in a big trout.

Annabelle kind of choked on what she was chewing.

I slipped my trout off the hook. "Hey," I said.
"Annabelle, what's that stuff you're baiting our hooks with?"

"Yeah," said Clayte. "I just remembered,
you don't have any worms.
You are now permitted to speak."

Annabelle looked very innocent.
"Why, I've simply been baiting the way it says
in my book, with good old paraffin."

Just then someone whooped from the shore.
It was Clayte's dad. "Breakfast! Last call.
You kids get in here!"

We took our catch to the sporting goods store
and had it weighed in.
In the evening,everyone went down
for the announcement of prizes.
Mr. Fifeld was master of ceremonies.

Clayte's bass won a prize.




"But the grand prize goes to a young fisherman,
Mr. Rupert Piper, for a trout
that's the envy of all us anglers.
Care to tell us what you used, Rupert?"
Mr. Fifield looked very coy.

I'd rather be dead three times, I thought.

Clayte felt the same.

"Not telling?" Mr. Fifield said.
"Well, that's all right. You don't have to give away any secrets.
The prizes are this beautiful Shakespeare reel,
or this exquisite gold compact.
Which will you take, Rupert? As if I didn't know!"
He was reaching the reel toward me.

"I'll take the compact," I moaned.

Mr. Fifield smiled. "Oh, for your mother!"



(Thanks to A. and D. who visit us up at BSL.)

Also, if you enjoyed this story,
Ethelyn Parkinson wrote other terrific books,
the best of which is
The Operation That Happened To Me
where Rupert has an appendectomy
and gets to take his appendix home in a mason jar of formaldehyde
and display it at Show-n-Tell.

Sadly, we can say from experience (daughter Laina)
this is no longer the case.
Yes!! We asked!
But everything goes to the path lab nowadays.

"All The Single Ladies..."

" ... all the single ladies"

"all the single ladies

all the single ladies,

... now put your hands up,"



"... hands up ... "





"don't pay him any attention ..."





After several aborted starts
(technical problems with the speakers and sound system)
the annual ski show begins with a rousing rendition of
Beyonce's mega-hit "Single Ladies"
more commonly known as
"Put A Ring On It".


Here we have the girls simultaneously
skiing, singing and clapping.




"Up in the club, we just broke up"






"I'm doing my own little thing"

(Drew's friend Ben De Vries in beard)



"Decided to dip .... "




" ... and now you wanna trip ... "



"Just cried my tears for three good years"





"Well if you liked it then you shoulda
put a ring on it ... "



"Yeah if you liked it then
you shoulda put a ring on it ... "





"Whoa uh oh, oh oh oh ..."

A moveable Ski Tower... tres difficile.

This little stukketje was getting tired of me
snapping all kinds of photos and the
blaring Beyonce music.

Shortly thereafter, sand throwing ensued.