Travel

The Best Place to Watch the Sunset in Tucson

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I meandered to Tucson, Arizona, last month to visit my son who is in college there. We wanted to watch the sunset one evening, and he took me to Windy Vista Point on Mount Lemmon, about an hour outside of the city.

We drove up the mountain, parked our car in the lot, and walked out to the point just in time for the main event.

 

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Once the sun went down, the cold settled in. We were glad we wore our warm jackets despite being in Arizona. A group of people who sounded like they could be from Ireland perched on a rock near us, taking selfies.

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What a great way to end the day!

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Snowshoeing Up North

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20200120_134001Russ and I visited a northern Minnesota lake last weekend. Spent part of an afternoon snowshoeing on a frozen lake. The morning’s hoarfrost floated down from the trees, looking like snow magically falling from a clear blue sky.

Oh yeah, that’s the way to do winter!

Wowed by a Pow Wow

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DSC05701I meandered just a bit south to Carlton, Minn., to attend an Ojibwe pow wow for work. More like I white-knuckled it on the drive due to a snowstorm.

I made it to the venue and ended up glad I endured the stressful drive. Why? Because pow wows are fascinating and fun! If you ever have the chance to attend one, you should.

I’ve been to a handful in various locations across the U.S. Every time, I come away impressed by their friendly vibe and the dose of a different culture.

It’s also refreshing to be in the minority for once. Being outnumbered by Native Americans for a few hours administers a dose of empathy for what they must feel most of the time in larger society. And the regalia the dancers wear is so impressive. I could tell they spent a lot of time and effort to make and choose their dress.

I attended the pow wow as part of a teacher workshop I’m doing a story about for work. The workshop offered educators from Wisconsin and Minnesota the opportunity to learn more about Ojibwe culture and their relationship to water to bring into their classroom lessons. Attending the pow wow was part of the experience for the educators.

Before the pow wow, we were given an etiquette sheet so we could avoid making clueless-white-person faux pas.

20200118_134851 (2)I thought I’d share a few of the more interesting points with you. The first is that a pow wow dancer’s clothing is called “regalia,” not a costume. The info sheet says, “Costumes are worn to present yourself as something you are not.”

The sheet does not say what regalia is, but one could assume from the definition of costume that regalia is clothing that reflects a dancer’s true identity. Think of a queen. Her ceremonial clothing wouldn’t be called a costume (unless someone who was not a queen wore it.) It reflects her regal status.

The dictionary offers three definitions of regalia. One is, “the emblems, symbols, or paraphernalia indicative of royalty.” The other is, “decorations or insignia indicative of an office or membership.” The last is, “special dress (especially finery).”

I suspect the last two definitions are the most appropriate when thinking of pow wow clothing – the dancer’s clothes reflect their membership in the tribe(s), and they are clothes not worn every day.  But I also like the idea that their clothing shows their true identity, and that identity is royal.

Another interesting guideline is not to touch a dancer’s regalia. It’s considered rude. I can see how having someone else’s hands all over something so personal could be an invasion of personal space and privacy.

The last is not to pick up an eagle feather that has fallen off someone’s regalia, or take photos of it being retrieved. The etiquette sheet states: “If you see a feather or regalia on the ground, do not touch it but do inform one of the dancers. They will take care of it properly.”

Eagle feathers are sacred to Native Americans, as is their regalia, so it makes sense they don’t want just anyone’s grubby hands on them. I also assume some ceremonies must be associated with retrieving a fallen feather.

End of lesson. Now you know few rules. Go out and find yourself a pow wow! It will be good for you.

Mountie Art Memories

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Russ and I meandered over to the Tweed Museum of Art on the University of Minnesota Duluth Campus last week. Russ had never been there, so we figured it was time for him to get some “cultcha,” even if it is only a Duluthy version of culture.

The museum currently features an exhibit of Russian art (Art in Conflict), which was interesting. You don’t often see Lenin in artwork displayed in America.

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Image courtesy of the Tweed Museum of Art.

My favorite collection in the Tweed, however, is the Canadian Mountie illustrations. My father used to get calendars from a local paper company that showed red-suited Mounties in all sorts of exciting and helpful situations, fueling my childhood imagination. There were Mounties petting sled dogs, Mounties building a snowman with native children, Mounties tracking bad guys – you get the drift.

Something I didn’t realize back then was that more than one artist drew the illustrations. The most prolific was Arnold Friberg, noted for his religious and patriotic art. But fifteen others tried their hand at it, as well.

The Mountie art came about during the Depression when the Minnesota Paper Company chose it as their advertising theme because it evoked a strong and dependable product. It was an instant success and continues until this day, although the company’s name has changed several times over the years.

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Image courtesy of the Tweed Museum of Art.

While I suspect that real Mounties have committed their fair share of atrocities like any arm of law enforcement, I don’t want to know about it. As a child, I was totally sold on their Dudley Do-Right goodness, and, as I looked at the paintings in the Tweed, I realized I want to keep my childlike innocence where Mountie art is concerned.

If you’re ever in Duluth and want some culture, try the Tweed! Admission is free, although donations are appreciated, and there’s a box for that by the door.

Unicorns in New York City!

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The unicorn in captivity tapestry.

On our recent trip to NYC, Russ and I discovered there are unicorns in the city. Specifically, unicorns adorn tapestries in The Cloisters, a branch of The Metropolitan Museum of Art devoted to medieval European art.

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The Met Cloisters

Atop its hill overlooking the Hudson River, The Cloisters takes visitors back to another era. Many of the buildings and chapels were transported over from Europe. They house sculptures, paintings, sarcophagi, stained glass and other master works from the 12th century to the 15th century. The halls are separated by courtyard gardens and outdoor gardens that will make you feel like you’re on the set of Romeo and Juliet or something.

One of our favorite rooms held the unicorn tapestries. These seven wall hangings were thought to be woven in the 1500s in Brussels. They depict the hunt and capture of a unicorn. The unicorn does not fare well with its encounter with humans. It’s held captive and killed. Or is it killed? Artistic scholars debate this, but what’s not debatable in the renderings is that people attack it. But I’m not going to show those tapestries here. They are just too mean! I will show a different one, instead.

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The unicorn purifies water and is discovered by the hunters.

Enjoy this mini tour of The Cloisters.

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Oh, and this is a unicorn thing that does something. I don’t know what, but it looks cool.

Aspects of 9-11

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The slurry wall inside the 9-11 Museum.

Russ and I meandered over to New York City last week. We didn’t plan it, but our trip ended up being 9-11 themed. Our first experience was a visit to the 9-11 Memorial and Museum.

The dim lights and the quiet struck me as we entered the museum. This was hallowed ground. Visitors treaded lightly and spoke softly. We met our tour guide in the lobby and she took us down, down, down into the excavation pit of the World Trade Center buildings.

DSC05587The heavy ghost of all the rubble that had filled the space and piled above it was an emotional and physical weight. Our guide showed us the slurry wall that held back the river from flooding the space, the square-edged outlines of the waterfalls that flowed in the memorial outside, the wreckage of the fire trucks, and the last cement column that survived the building collapse, festooned with first-responder graffiti.

The most awe-full artifact for me was the impact steel from the North Tower, which was the one hit first. Mounted on the wall like a crucifix with a stark light upon it, the mangled steel beams hung as a testament to the power of the plane that crashed into the building and began the nightmare.

People showed different emotions to these sights. Some were crying, some were dazed. Everyone was somber.

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The impact steel from the North Tower.

Our tour guide explained that her brother worked in the World Trade Buildings. He only escaped death that day because, at the last moment, he decided to go to the optometrist to get his glasses fixed instead of heading up the tower.

Tour over, we were free to wander among the artifact exhibits on our own. I was drawn to the information about the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, because I was in Pennsylvania when 9-11 happened. A timeline of those events was on display along with text of the plane cockpit recordings.

Also powerful and haunting were the voicemail messages left for loved ones from those who worked in the tower after the plane(s) crashed into them.

After all that heaviness, I was glad to get outside into the memorial area. But even the memorial is heavy, with all the names of the dead inscribed around the waterfalls that flow into the building pits. We found the name of a man who had been in a relative’s wedding party.

DSC05674The other 9-11-themed thing we did was attend the Broadway show, “Come From Away.” Although poignant at times, this experience was much more enjoyable than the museum. The musical tells the story of the townspeople of Gander, Newfoundland. This village of 10,000 people hosted 7,000 airplane travelers who got grounded on 9-11 for several days.

The Newfies welcome the confused travelers like only Newfies could – with generosity, caring, music, and whisky. The show offered 100 minutes of humanity and hopefulness.  The audience gave it a standing ovation at the end. If you have a chance to see “Come From Away,” by all means, do so!

New Story in the Boundary Waters Journal

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InkedBWJCover_LIMy story, “Tuscarora Enchantment,” is in the latest issue of the Boundary Waters Journal. It’s the first article I’ve written for them in many years, and it’s good to be back!

The story is based on the experience that Russ and I had during our trip that I mentioned in this blog last year. We took one of the most rugged routes in the wilderness, retracing steps (and paddling) I took in college with my newspaper reporter cronies.

You can look for the fall issue on newstands or you can order my article for a nominal fee direct from the magazine. Follow this link for info about how to do that: https://www.boundarywatersjournal.com/archives

Swingin’ Over to the Soo

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A ship waiting to go through the U.S. locks.

I meandered on over to Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, (also known as the Soo) last week for a work conference. This town is at the opposite end of Lake Superior from my hometown of Duluth. It’s the site of the St. Marys River, which drains Lake Superior into Lake Huron. The international boundary between the U.S. and Canada runs its length, and the river is also home to the locks that raise and lower cargo ships, allowing them to travel between the two Great Lakes.

20190917_172555I had the opportunity to see the locks on this trip from both the American and Canadian sides. The differences were startling. To approach the American locks by foot requires an inspection of one’s bags by Homeland Security. The locks are surrounded by impressive fencing and warning signs. I suppose this is the result of 9/11, and the security makes sense since I believe the American locks are larger and most of the valuable shipping traffic goes through them. The surrounding park is manicured and heavy industrial equipment lies at the ready atop the lock walls.

The Canadian locks run on the other side of the St. Marys River near Whitefish Island, which is a nature preserve in the river. Those locks are less developed and no security checks are required. The island they are part of is home to beavers, muskrats, and duckies, and trails abound for nature-loving humans.

I had a chance to walk around the island and take some photos. The neatest thing my co-worker and I saw was a muskrat swimming underwater. S/he was apparently building a nest under the boardwalk we were standing on, and we watched the brown torpedo-like animal swim back and forth several times, carrying aquatic grasses to its lair.

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A beaver house near the Canadian locks.

Now I am home again. I am glad to be staying put. No more meandering for me for a while.

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The Canadian locks.

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A duck on the Canadian side. The water is very clear!

Scamping in Canada’s Quetico Provincial Park

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DSC05536Russ bought a 13-foot Scamp trailer about a year ago and we hadn’t had time to use it until now. Scamps are cute little lightweight campers made in Minnesota. Ours has all the comforts of home in a compact space. The only things missing are a bathroom and an oven.

I needed to travel overnight for a freelance magazine story assignment in Canada, so we decided it was the perfect opportunity for the Scamp’s maiden voyage.

On our way to the Dawson Trail Campground in Quetico Provincial Park, we left Duluth and drove across the border on the North Shore of Lake Superior with our two doggies. Note that to bring your dogs into Canada, you need to have a rabies vaccination certificate. The border agent didn’t ask us for our dogs’ certificates, but we had them along, just in case.

Just outside of Thunder Bay we turned north to Kakabeka Falls. Since the falls are close to the road and we’d never seen them, we decided to stop. At 131 feet, these falls are even higher than the ones on the Pigeon River on the border of Minnesota and Canada. They are truly spectacular and well worth pulling off the highway to see.

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Kakabeka Falls

Then we were off to find the Trans-Canada Highway. This impressively maintained road looks totally out-of-place as it takes drivers past pine-lined undeveloped lakes, bogs, and beaver homes. Imagine the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness with a freeway through it, and that’s what driving this stretch of Highway 11 is like.

There are not many services along the road in this part of the world. In fact, warning signs advise drivers to check their gas at certain points because if you run out, you’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Counting a lunch stop and the waterfall stop, it took us about eight hours to arrive the campground. The campground is actually two campgrounds, a canoe launch, several log cabins, a visitor center, picnic grounds and a bunch of hiking trails.

We parked our Scamp in Ojibwa Campground, which features a small beach, electric hookups, and a bathroom building that offers free hot showers and a coin laundry (if you bring some loonies along). As we checked in, the ranger warned us of bear activity in the campground. The park had a cage trap out to catch it.

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A log cabin for rent at the campground. Pretty sweet!

We stayed for three nights, discovering along the way that yes, you can fit two adults and two large dogs into a 13-foot Scamp.

After my writing work was done on our last day, we took a hike to The Pines, which is a picturesque beach lined with a stand of red pines. After being spoiled by hiking among giant hemlocks in the Apostle Islands last fall, we were a bit disappointed by this hike. From the descriptions, we expected giant pines to line the trail, not only the endpoint. And the pines weren’t all that old. But don’t let our expectations stop you from exploring the area – we are just nature snobs, I guess.

Our doggies loved the beach, however. Buddy the Wonderdog ran in crazy circles, he was so excited to have reached this sandy destination. Russ’s dog Bea waded into the water and drank her fill from Pickerel Lake.

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The Pines at the end of The Pines trail.

During our hike back to the campground, a drizzle started to fall. We slogged along for several hours and were super happy to have a dry and cozy Scamp to climb into at the end of it. With my only pair of jeans sopping wet, I took advantage of the dryer at the bathroom and was soon able to climb under a blanket in dryer-warmed pants. This truly felt like a magnificent luxury in the wilderness.

While I was gone on this task, Russ said he saw the campground bear being driven away, trapped in the cage.

Our route back home took us farther west along the highway to Fort Frances and International Falls, where we crossed the border back into America again. Once we crossed the border, the dogs, still worn out by the hike the previous day, perked up. Russ and I joked that it was like they could smell America.

If you’re thinking of upgrading from tent camping to a Scamp, I would say, do it! We are looking forward to our next Scamping adventure. I wonder where it will take us?

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The beach at Ojibwa Campground and canoe landing.