Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 119

Copper Harbor and Brockway Mountain and Mandan, oh my

Thursday, August 4th, was our last full day of camping in the UP and once again, I had a full day planned.   Believe it or not, a friend of mine was already planning on camping at Fort Wilkins State Park that week, so I told her we would drive up to see her. That took up most of the morning but we had a good visit and it was great seeing her and the rest of her family. It has been a long time.

We drove back into Copper Harbor and poked around in a few gift shops. Didn’t find anything that we couldn’t live without, not even ice cream, for a change.
   We took the scenic road up and over Brockway Mountain on the way back to our campground. The views all speak for themselves.
   We got back as far as Eagle Harbor and ate lunch at the little town park, where we always stop.

I don’t think I mentioned previously, but we had already stopped at the Jampot twice. When we were there earlier that morning, they didn’t have their hermit cookies baked yet (my very favorite), so Hubby insisted we stop one last time to buy some.  Last but most importantly, we finished out the day by finally finding the ghost town of Mandan. Truly easy to find and just off of Highway 41, just like my directions said. Sometimes I have to just shake my head and move on.
 
The next morning, very sadly, we packed up the camper and headed home. We’ll be back to the UP soon. 

A Whimper

Fifteen years ago today, the United States was attacked, the Twin Towers in New York City fell, the Pentagon was seriously damaged and thousands of Americans died. A part of each of us died as well. Until that Tuesday morning, we had listened to the news of bombings and terrorist attacks and wars around the world, but sat in our living room recliners believing that we were safe.
At first we all agreed that 9/11 was a wake-up call. Before that day, we thought the United States was an island, removed from the violence that took place in other parts of the world. After that day, we thought if we only secured our borders, secured our airports and other ports that we would remain a free country.
Instead what has really been happening in this country?
The big news the last few weeks has been a football player who refused to stand for the national anthem. Because we still live in a free country and no one should be forced to stand when they don’t want to, I guess that’s his right and I get that. What I don’t get is how he has a right to protest anything when he made more money during that one game than his black brothers and sisters make in a year? More money than the average American of any race makes in a year and more money than most people living in a third world country make in a lifetime.
But it’s not about the money. Or I sure hope not. Then what about people being oppressed in this country and our government keeping them under its thumb? But unless you have lived in a third world country, you don’t really have a clue what it means to be oppressed or what it means when leaders do not give a damn about their people.
Or maybe it’s not even about our current government, which I will admit is full of a cancer which no amount of chemo or radiation is going to slow down. Maybe you still have a gripe with our forefathers. How dare they talk about freedoms and rights and build a country based on that when they owned slaves? Because, yea, you’re going to change history.
I do not have an answer for you, for anyone. I wish I could say that this is still the greatest country in the world, but I have to fight the tears when I say that I don’t believe that is true.
T.S. Elliot wrote the poem, “Hollow Men” in 1925 and its last lines remain the most quoted ones in poetry. “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper”. Wow. How did he know ninety-one years ago where we would be today?
Will another 9/11 destroy this country? Will enough attacks from outside terrorists bring us to our knees? Will we go down fighting, screaming, clinging to what we know to be right?
Or will we kill ourselves from the inside out? Will we drive enough police officers out of that line of work so that we have no protection in our neighborhoods? Will we persecute Christians and Jews and other religious groups but not Muslims, because not all Muslims are bad and never ask what is so bad about the other religions? Will protests of our own flag drive us apart? Will we forget what is really important?
This is what I see outside my window as I write this. I hope that I will always have that view.

Just my thoughts for this day, September 11, 2016. I’d love to hear what you think. 

Never Lost if You Have a Gazetteer

I meant to post yesterday, but my laptop was having a fit and I wasn’t able to do anything on it. Today is a new day, though, and so far, after rebooting it for the umpteenth time in the middle of last night, the laptop is finally working okay.
Back to our camping trip adventures in the UP.
A few years ago, I read on-line about the ghost town of Mandan, somewhere past Delaware mine. I wanted to explore it, but the last two times we were in the UP, I didn’t take along any directions and my mind just isn’t what it used to be. Just like the search for the elusive Gratiot RiverWaterfall, I apparently needed written directions in hand. Unlike this year’s discovery of those waterfalls, however, these directions weren’t enough.
Four miles past the mine at Delaware, on Highway 41, a sign declared “Mandan”. We drove onto the gravel road and turned to the right, as my directions said. The instructions went on to say that you should now be on Main Street where a few houses still stood and after a few hundred feet you would circle back out to Highway 41.
This did not happen.  We did see a sign for “Mandan Loop Road”, so decided that we at least were on the right track. We drove for maybe a mile, and even though we toyed with the idea of turning around, we decided to just keep going. 
The road eventually circled back around until we were heading east again, and I thought certainly we would come upon the ghost town and its few remaining houses now. We met a few ATVs and other vehicles, so felt that the road had to at least end up somewhere. Every time we saw one of these signs, we thought, that even though the road had deteriorated to an ATV trail, our Chevy Blazer will surely get through. The path was dry, rutted and just wide enough in some places for us to pass. 
Even what appeared to be an ancient snowmobile in a tree didn’t deter us. After all we still had a half a tank of gas and plenty of food and water, along with Dino the Wonder Dog who surely had our backs.
After another hour of driving, we stopped for a potty break in the woods. As we got back in the vehicle, a car, a mini-van and an SUV crawled passed. Even though we had no cell reception, we still had to be near civilization, right?
I finally pulled out the Michigan Gazetteer and traced our path. Yea, we were way off base and just south of Copper Harbor, as the crow flies. 
We came to an intersection, believe it or not. If I was correct, according to the Gazetteer, the road straight ahead would go for another few miles before circling back to come into Copper Harbor from the east. The road to the left would take us there quickly, but my gut feeling was that it was not nearly in as good condition as the road straight ahead. 
As the Hubby and I were mulling it over, the three vehicles from earlier, the silver crossover SUV, red mini-van and blue Mitsubishi with tires about the size of our camper’s, pulled up behind us. The occupants all got out, admitting they were as lost as we were. Their cell phones were telling them where we were, which I felt was erroneous, as I was certain they didn’t have any better reception than we did. 
As we were discussing it, an ATV came along. Ah, ha, surely they will know. They had an ATV trail map, but couldn’t tell us any better where we were.
I was like, seriously, with all us people standing around in the middle of the woods I am the one with any Boy Scout experience?
The guy wearing a Chicago Bears jersey with Cutler emblazoned on the back and driving the crossover SUV with Illinois plates wanted to take over, so he announced we should all take the road to the left. I listened for banjos, but didn’t hear any. 
I really didn’t want to follow them, but since they had kids in one of their cars and I bet I was the only one of us with any medical experience and that we had more food in our Blazer than they had between them, I thought we should give in and follow them out.  I swear, it was only for those two little kids, who by the way, fell in love with Dino. 
The trail was pretty rough and narrow in places, but wasn't horrible. We would have got out in a short period of time, but the guy in the lead – the one wearing the Chicago Bear’s jersey, which Himey felt explained a lot – kept stopping for no one knows what reason. To talk, is all we could figure. And then the little boy in the mini-van did get out to pee once, and they all got out to eat some berries.
We got back to civilization though and once we got back on pavement, I put it all together in my head and we were indeed exactly where I thought we were the whole time. But instead of saying "na-ner-na-ner" to Cutler, we just waved goodbye and took off down the road. It all would have been fun and games if this adventure hadn’t taken the whole entire afternoon. 
Hubby was willing to cut our losses, buy gas and just get back to camp. But I ended up cranky about the whole ordeal. In perspective, I guess it is what it is. I need to remember my Kenyan and forget looking at the clock and worrying about time. We were on vacation. And there was still tomorrow. Once again, Dino earned his keep today and gets a well deserved rest. 

Waterfalls Hunting

I’m so sorry that I haven’t blogged here for a week. Lots going on, but I won’t bother you with it now. Let me instead get right back to our camping trip in the UP last month. I can’t believe it’s been a full month already since we got home!
The morning of our second day there, Wednesday, we spent in search of new waterfalls.
On two previous occasions, we had tried to find the falls on the Gratiot River. The first time we ended up walking for miles on some logging road, the second time we ended up on that beach where the natives were playing banjoes and waiting for their sacrifice. (It really is worth revisiting that blog post here.)
This time I had not one but two resources to get us there. The book, “A Guide to 199 Waterfalls in Michigan”, called this the Upper Falls of the Gratiot River, while the brochure, “Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula Adventure Guide” named the falls Conglomerate Falls. Either way it was obvious that it was the same place.  Amazing how easy it was to find with the proper directions. We walked in on the half mile road instead of driving, but the road was a narrow one-lane and it was a perfect day for a walk anyway.
 When we got to the end of the road, it was another one-third mile downhill on a weathered path to the cliff above the river and then along the river to the Upper Falls.  Unfortunately with all the vegetation, it was hard to see the actual falls, but at least I knew it was down there so we could confidently cross this one off our list. The Lower Falls according to the waterfalls book is further down the river but there is no defined trail to get to it, so we thought we ought not try it.  Next we stopped at Silver Creek, where there was supposed to be a falls a short distance upstream. We found the creek all right, but when I got down to it, there was no trail along its bank and not even enough of a bank to make my own trail. But it was still pretty down there. 

Last we were going to visit another new falls on the Eagle River, just north of Phoenix, but there were two other cars in the two-car parking area, so we came back the next day.
It wasn’t really much of a waterfall, more of a rapids, but still picturesque. It is right along the side of the road and I can’t believe we never stopped here before.

Who knows. I am sure that by the time we go back up to the UP next year, I will have new waterfalls on my list to discover. 

All The Time

 For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;    his faithfulness continues through all generations. Psalm 100:5 (New International Version)  There’s a popular Christian song, written by Don Moen, with a chorus that reads:God is good all the timeHe put a song of praise in this heart of mineGod is good all the timeThrough the darkest night, His light will shineGod is good, God is good all the time
When Hubby and I are at Lifest every year, one of our favorite performers, Peder Eide, uses “God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good” as his catch phrase.
The other night, Hubby and I were talking – I don’t remember what about – but he said “Life is good”. And I couldn’t help but answer, “All the time”. Because no matter how bad things are for us on any given day, our lives are still pretty good. All the time.
But is that so far off from saying “God is good”? Because doesn’t God equal Life anyway. 
Short and sweet, that’s my thought for the day. Easy to remember and easy to keep in your heart.  

Tragedy in the U.P.

(I can’t believe that I didn’t thrive on history during high school, sucking it up like a sponge. I feel I have a lot of lost time to make up for. And am thankful for the internet.)
“One little girl who was jammed in the hallway in a dying condition begged one of her rescuers to save her. She grasped his hand, kissed it, then her little head dropped upon her breast and she was dead,” Miner’s Bulletin, December 28, 1913
In the late 1800s the Copper Boom in Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula would rival the California Gold Rush. Mines popped up (or dug down) throughout the woods. Immigrants from Croatia, Slovenia, Poland, Finland and other countries flocked to the area at the prospect of a steady job. Unfortunately it didn’t take the mine owners long to clamp down on this prosperity, looking for ways to cut workers while increasing their workload. In 1906, the Western Federation of Miners began organizing the miners of the Keweenaw, seeking to increase workers’ pay, shorten their work day, eliminate child labor and assure job security. Safety was also a huge concern, as an average of one miner died per week during this time.
On July 23, 1913, the miners voted to strike. Management at the Calumet & Hecla mine would not negotiate, agreeing only to an eight hour work day. As the strike dragged on, union funds ran out and the striking workers were left penniless. Many moved away, searching for work in industrial cities such as Chicago or Detroit.
To assure that the children of Red Jacket would have a Christmas, the WFM’s Women’s Auxiliary hosted a Christmas Eve party at the Italian Hall. Hundreds of fathers and mothers brought their sons and daughters to the second floor ballroom. Just as the children were being given their Christmas presents, the only ones they would receive that year, someone shouted, “Fire!”
The panicked crowd raced for the single staircase and only exit out of the building. When the doors at the bottom of the stairs couldn’t be opened, the force of the humanity from above crushed those underneath. An unimaginable 73 were killed, 60 of them children.
There was no fire.
A federal investigation failed to discover if the doors to the outside were locked or blocked by something or even if they opened in or out. The inquiry also never found out who had shouted “fire” in the first place, though many believe to this day that it was someone hired by mine management.  

In April 1914, the strike came to an end, the union defeated. It wouldn’t be long, though, before the copper era would come to a close, and not only the mines but many of the towns of Copper Country would go silent. 


(A lot of my information was also taken from these two sites: http://www.1913strike.mtu.edu/index.html and from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copper_...)

Red Jacket

Red Jacket was a well-known chief of the Seneca Indian tribe, and the mining village formed in the 1860s just west of the Calumet and Hecla mine in Michigan’s UP was initially named after him. In 1929, the name of the town was changed to Calumet. I looked up why on the internet, but it’s rather a convoluted story if you ask me, but you can look it up Every time we visit Michigan’s UP, we stop in Calumet, usually to buy gas at the BP or to pick up something we forgot at Pat’s Food (except this time. Yeah me!). One other time, we walked the streets, stopped in some stores and I even toured the Calumet Theatre.
Since the forecast was for rain on our first full day of camping near there this year, we decided we would spend the morning in Calumet and do some of the museums.  First we toured the Coppertown Mining Museum. Just one of the miners many duties, only put him hundreds of feet underground with barely room to stand up or turn around. Not for claustrophobic me.  This is the Anne Clemenc display. She was a woman before her time, advocating for miners’ rights, leading marches in support of the workers. She even divorced her first husband, due to his physical abuse of her and his alcoholism. The Union Building, which is now the Calumet Visitors Center, run by the National Park Service.  The John Green Block, built in 1868, is one of the town’s oldest wood-frame buildings and has had various different businesses behind its doors. It has been home to Copper World gift store since 1977. The Calumet and Holman Blocks. It is confusing that they call each building a block, but from what I gather, when they refer to these buildings as blocks it is because there are several different units, such as stores or living quarters, inside each one. So they are like their own little “block”.   The Baer Brothers Building (say that three times fast). It was a meat market back in the day.   Vertin’s Department Store was the largest commercial building in downtown Red Jacket. You can see that, as the business grew, they added additional floors to the building.  Calumet State Bank and the Coppo Block.  A few windows in on the left side you can see where the architecture changed signifying where the bank ends and the Coppo building begins.  The Michigan Hotel which served the area’s elite and was owned by Bosch Brewing Company.
I don’t know what this building is – or was – but it is pretty much gone beyond repair. It has no roof or back wall. There are many more buildings in Calumet that are in the same, or worse condition. As my sister Pat would say, in German, “Wie Traurig”.  I took a picture of this building on Tuesday afternoon because I thought it looked cool and liked the turret on the corner. Little did I know that on Thursday Hubby would be entering the store under the blue awning. That would be Auto Value of Calumet. Can I tell them why, Honey? (He had forgotten to put the gas cap on the Blazer when we got gas at the BP and he needed to buy a new one. Moral of this story, don’t take a picture of an auto parts store while on vacation as you may have to stop there before you are done.)

Most of the information above (except about the auto parts store) was taken from the booklet “Downtown Calumet: Guide to the Historic Mining Community”, produced by the National Parks Service. Also click on the many links included here for more information.   

Going to Church

 On arriving there, they gathered the church together and reported all that God had done through them and how he had opened a door of faith to the Gentiles. (Acts 14:27 New International Version)
Touring Calumet, Michigan, earlier this month, I was once again amazed by how many churches this community supported in its prime. Every religion was represented and each nationality had a church in each religion. The Calumet & Hecla Mining Company, the life-blood of the town, encouraged this spirituality, feeling that men who went to church were less likely to carouse and thus be more dependable employees.

 Too bad employers don’t have those same thoughts in this day and age. Or are the morals of church attendees today no better than non-believers? Can strangers tell if you are a Christian or not by your actions? A few things to think about this week.  The Calumet Arts Center, in I don't know which old church. 
St. Anne's Catholic Church, now the Keweenaw Heritage Center Inside the Heritage Center Norwegian Lutheran Church, established in 1898, currently being renovated by the Sons of Norway Ulseth Lodge   National Lutheran Church, which served the Finnish population   Originally this was St Joseph's Church, but when the numbers started dwindling at the six  Catholic parishes in the town, several churches combined and this one became St Paul the Apostle Church.  A large sign outside St Paul the Apostle announced that it was "open", so I got this far, but I had Dino with me. This kindly lady told me that if he was a well-behaved dog I could tie him to the stair railing and come in. I regrettably declined.  St John the Baptist Croatian Church  Not in Calumet, but a few miles up the road near Eagle River, this is the church of  the Society of St John, the monastery of the monks who run the Jampot. Yummy. (If you click here, see the picture of the five monks? The one on the far right with the longest beard is the one who always waits on us Jampot. He is a sweetheart.) 

Going from this to that

As Dino insists on reminding me, it is time that I tell you about the camping trip we took to Michigan’s U.P. the first week in August.
Oh, shoot, I suppose first I should tell you how we went from this To this The middle of July, in anticipation of our camping trip two weeks later, we started to set up the old Coleman popup. My sister and I had bought it used in 1997 and though it did fine for many trips, it has started showing its age the last few years. Each time we put it up, Hubby and I think that it will be the last time. It creaks and groans as he cranks it up and the canvas always has a new hole in it. This time however, it was more than a hole. Not only one or two mice got into it over the past year, but I believe it was an entire village.

In addition to the rodents, somehow water got inside, that or the critters had been proficient at peeing, as places inside were more than a little damp and had begun to mold.
These discoveries were made around eleven on a Saturday morning. I ran in the house and jumped on-line. King’s campers, about 40 miles down the road, had two used popups for sale and I also found one on Craig’s list which showed promise.
Hubby came in the house and I asked if he wanted to run to Wausau to look at the ones at King’s. Sure, he answered, do I have time to take a shower? They close at one, I told him, so make it a quick one.
That was our first mistake. Well, actually our only mistake. The remaining events were beyond our control.
When we got to King’s, the cheaper of the two popups was perfect for us. We started looking around for a salesperson, just as one appeared who was being dragged over by another couple who had already looked at the camper. We want it, they announced.
Drat it, Hubby, if only you hadn’t taken that shower.                 The other one they had for sale was more expensive, smaller and not in very good shape, or that was our opinion. We quickly crossed it off the list.
We jumped in the car and headed home, as I grabbed my phone and messaged the guy on Craig’s list who had a popup for sale down by Curtis.
He got right back to me and said we could come over yet that afternoon. We were already on the way home, so instead of turning around and driving over there, we asked if we could come on Sunday. OK, I guess we did make another mistake.
A short time later, he messaged me back and said the camper was sold, but his neighbor was selling his as well and it was a comparable price and condition. I didn’t know. Sounded shady at that point, so I never got back to him.
Instead I found yet another one on Craig’s list, this one in Marshfield. It was the right size, decent price, looked pretty clean and was a 2003, so fairly new. I messaged him, saying we’d love to come look at it the next day.
That night we went for a pontoon boat ride with our son, and I was nervous I would miss this new guy getting back to me and it would be too late when we got home. He did message me around eight and I answered him around nine, thinking it was definitely too late by then. Low and behold he got back to me yet that night and we set up a time for Sunday.
We found his house with no trouble and the trailer was perfect. The couple was selling it as they had previously owned a fifth wheel, but downsized when they bought a new house which didn’t have room in the yard for the larger trailer. Well, the wife was not happy with the popup – too much work, too small, too inconvenient. Which I all totally get, having gone camping in my parents’ fifth wheel when I was in high school. For us though, right now, a popup camper is totally the best option.
After showing us everything on the camper, the man said, think about it, and he walked away to let us talk about it. We both wanted it, and even though the price wasn’t bad, we’d like to get it down a bit. Ok, he was asking $2400, so I told Hubby that if he came down to $2200 we would take it.
The guy came back out and Hubby asked if 2400 was the bottom line and if he would come down a couple hundred. When he said he’d take $2200, tears sprung into my eyes. It was really going to happen! We were going to get a new, used camper.
We gave him $500 down and went back the following Friday with the Blazer and the rest of the money. A week later, Hubby and I took it for a ride up some big hills to make sure the antique Chevrolet could pull it. The Blazer did fine.

We got home, set it up and even though it was pretty much spotless already, I vacuumed, swept and washed everything inside. Then we stocked it, closed it down and waited impatiently to take it camping a few days later. 

Dino Goes Camping

                Even though we have been home from our camping trip for over a week, Mom has not gotten around to sharing the trip with you - her faithful fans. She just got home from work (late again), and she already said, “I’m too tired to write tonight”.  So here I am. Dino, the wonder dog, stepping in to help Mom out.                 Plus I just want to show you pictures of me! And all the fun I had camping.   In my back pack, ready to go.   Love camping, not so crazy about the ride though  Ah, finally, my first swim in the Big Lake.  I'm saying, come on Dad throw the stick again!  And because Dad loves me so much, he threw the stick again.   And again.   I could swim all day.   Ok, I may look tired, but I am still ready to go swimming again.   I don't know why Mom and Dad are looking that way. The lake is over there!  Walking down the Pooch Path.  Time to go home. That makes me very sad. But I guess as long as I can still spend time with Mom and Dad, no matter where we are, I am happy.