Yarg, Me Dinger is Gone!

Back from Wisconi.  I mean, really.  If you were a female (maybe you are), would you want to spend  eight days at home while your husband hosts Deer Camp?  Come on!  I can only hear the same buck story so many times!  But bless their hearts.  We got our meat for the year.  I will spare you any images of our nine hour butchering session yesterday... in the kitchen.

And the CH trails are still closed for hunting, so guess where I went today.  Up to Brockway's Nose!  It takes some ambition (or caffeine) to want to climb that steeply graded  hill.  Today I had both, so Duce and I went.

A pan of the town with a fresh dusting of snow

What a great walk.  I actually want to do that again soon!  And Duce posed nicely on our way back home.  Can you tell where we are?

My good boy sits so nice

Now let's rewind.  Wednesday, as I pedaled around town looking for my dog, I saw an interesting boat past the gap on Superior.  The drop in my gut told me what was going on.  I pedaled down to the Queen's dock, and looked for my bell buoy.

It was gone.

Sunofagun, I just went out the day before to make sure it was still there!  You took my buoy!  I screamed at the ship, nearly in tears.  In my eight years of living here, I have never seen the buoy drop in or get yanked out of its spot.  But the ship was heading west, and I knew what to do.

I flew home and checked the Marine Traffic site to make sure what I saw was real.  Yup, she was a Coast Guard boat labeled as a tender... going 6.6 knots.  I had time to spare, but I packed up for a trip to Eagle Harbor.  I was going to see what those buoy tenders do.

At the Eagle Harbor Lighthouse, I found a nice front row seat on a cold, wet, unyieldingly hard rock.  Anticipation rose as I watched the ship close in on the buoy.  I had my camera ready for you.

So I sat and waited and watched.  Oh, my.  I sat and shivered for an hour waiting for that tender to whisk that melodic three-toned buoy out of the Big Lake.  

And then it happened.

The buoy, lifted by ropes from a large crane, rose out of the water and timbered into the ship.  I tell you what.  I watched that crane the whole time, waiting for any movement.  The only thing that actually moved (from where I could see) was the cable connected to it.

I seriously sat there and recorded most of this process with my numb fingers holding the shaking camera as I shivered on an off-camber bolder of shore rock.  I didn't mind any of that.  But the lifting of the buoy was so anticlimactic from the camera's point of view that I rather not even waste the bandwidth uploading it.  You get my description and a picture instead.

The C.G. Alder full of local buoys

But hey, now I have officially witnessed the removal of a bell buoy.  One more item to cross off my bucket list!

Here is a picture of one of the older buoys displayed at the museum by the lighthouse.  Those things are way bigger than they look in the water.

Historic buoy at the Eagle Harbor Lighthouse Museum

Okay, now the sun came out.  After hearing about tomorrow's potential storm, I better get some vitamin D before it disappears for the winter.  I'm not joking, you know.

Keystone Bay... Once Forgotten

Oh, man.  Now I feel like a jerk.  You know what I did?  I totally forgot that I went to Keystone Bay last week and that I took pictures and video for you.  Then I teased you about not liking to read in my last post because I didn't have any pictures and videos to show you.  Well, another point for you.  At least I wrote a sweet poem.

So, uh, a couple weeks ago, I went to Keystone Bay with a couple crazy boys who still like to kiteboard in Lake Superior even though it's stinkin' cold in the lake AND the air.  Then, like the dutiful little blogger I am I took some pictures of the highlights.  So without further ado, here they are!

I always thought bikers looked goofy in their outfit, but this beats it!

Woo!  And this is on his way back down!

CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE KITEBOARDING TEASER

Then I took a walk along the beach.  You know, it certainly isn't boring out there!

A beaver dam at the mouth of Union Creek

A pan of the fire-ravaged Keweenaw Point

The wasteland at Keweenaw Point

At least the orange fungus is seeping!

That fire happened in August of 2006.  I did see evidence of thimbleberry bushes, grasses and some other things that had already withered from the fall.  Lots of burned tree trunks and roots, though.  Walking through there was like walking on a trunk trapeze! 

Since you deserve it, here is a picture from our first sticking snow.

November snow in the sunshine

It wasn't much, and it's already gone, but it was majestic while it lasted.

Today is the opener for gun hunting season for deer.  Right now it's way too beautiful out for this girl and her black dog to stay inside, but we're sort of trapped in town because the trails are closed.  Maybe we'll have to go to Wisconsin! 

Flat-lined

Hunting season.  Okay, so what does that mean for me?  Aaron and his papa are out in da Keweenaw woods from dark til dark.  I have all day to spend with my pup.  But what can I really do besides write, make egg rolls and crochet hacky sacks?

I can hike to Hunter's Point without getting shot.  I can hike through Fort Wilkins without getting shot.  And I can hike through Clyde's field without getting shot.  Those are all fine places, but what do they lack?  Elevation.

I LOVE climbing hills.  I love climbing the mountains around here.  It's an awesome workout with a great view and little to no gear.  Love it.  But I can't go up the mountains safely right now.  Sure I could don the blaze orange and make the dog wear a safety vest, but it's not the same.  Plus, the hunters get upset when passers infringe on their territory.  I don't blame them.  They worked hard to sit there so quietly without a sound or scent.  I just miss my hills.

Thanks for listening.  I try not to complain, but, you know, I have to fill you in on the happenings, and that's how I feel about it!  Aaron is a hunter anyway, and he just got his young buck today.  "Easiest buck I ever shot."  Good, we didn't have to track it through the woods for hours like last year.

But in all reality, life is good!  I have time to work on many of the projects I made lists of over the summer.  I am so grateful for this time of year to catch up on what I call life.  Oh, life.  Thank you for still being here between work seasons.

On a present note, do you need a copy of Little Slices of da Harbor for any of your loved ones for the holidays?  If so, you can send me a check for $12.95 for each personally autographed copy, and I will ship your book(s) for free!  Here's the kicker: I will need to receive your request by December 1st.  I'll be on my official honeymoon in Hawaii for two weeks, and your book may not reach the recipient in time for Christmas after I get back.  (On the bright side, you will get to see my little slice of Hawaii while I'm there!)

If you haven't seen this book, you can get a free sneak peek of the winter season by clicking here.  You can send your check and request to me at P.O. Box 94 in beautiful Copper Harbor, MI 49918.  If you like, mention that you read my blog, and I'll throw in a black market F.A.Q. pamphlet too!  Happy holidays!

Snow and a Trail of Blood

Copper Harbor has it's first official dusting of snow.  The last time it snowed, it didn't stick.  Now the air and ground are cold enough to color the lawns and rooftops white.  Unless it snows soon, however, this batch won't stay around for long.  Sounds like they got lots more snow up the hill at Lake Medora, though.  I hear the roads are icy, so be careful if you're traveling!

Yesterday, as I was at home working on a project, Aaron came home early from hunting.  "Why are you back so early?" I asked, with an inkling of an idea.

"I came to get you," he said.  "Want to come help me track a deer?  I shot it, but I didn't find it yet."

My first deer tracking ever!   I was pumped.  Now let me say, unless the world came to an end, and we had to kill our own meat to live (though I would be more of a forager), I would never sit in the cold, cold woods with a gun poised to shoot an animal.  But this one was already shot, so I was compelled to track it down, and make sure it was put to rest.

DISCLAIMER: If you don't like blood, you might not want to read the rest of this because that's what I was looking at the rest of the time.

We parked the truck and walked into the bush where Aaron found the last blood.  He shot it behind the shoulder, through one lung.  "Not the best shot," he admitted.  I could tell he felt bad, but it was now a mission for us.

We followed the red sprinkles through the cedars, over dead trees, through a swamp, over a brook, through the pines and so on.  I liked it.  I thought it was so cool to follow in a deer's footsteps.  You know, go where a deer would go (although this one was wounded, not just looking for food).

I felt like a detective.  Following the trail of blood -- the poor thing was leaving a steady trail -- and going the way of its hoof prints.  We saw a couple spots where he laid or fell down.  "He must be wearing out," Aaron said.  I thought we would be getting closer.  Yup, there was another spot where he laid for a while.

Aaron's friend Mike, who also came to track with us, found him first.  At first I thought he was still breathing.  He looked like he was alive!  But nope.  Deader than a door nail.

I took a moment to thank the young buck for sacrificing his life to feed us.  He sure looked like good eating!  Besides that, he was beautiful.  It was nice closure to find him and admire him before Aaron sliced him open and pulled his guts out.  Cedar leaves were his last meal.  Man oh man, that was my first experience at a gutting too.  I can't say it was my favorite part.

The boys dragged him over a hill an out of the woods, while I got to carry their guns -- unloaded, of course.  It was a neat experience for this girl.  Aaron's first Keweenaw buck was my first "hunting" experience.  Tonight he will be cut into pieces, wrapped up and put in the freezer.