The Bugwayjinini

Leech Lake, Minnesota

The Ojibwe Indians call the local Bigfoot-like creature the Bugwayjinini, meaning Wild Man. The sightings of the creature have been on the increase in the rural areas around Lake Leech. Some estimates are that 300-400, perhaps as many as 500 of them now live in the area.

It is thought that they may be migrating toward the east, perhaps to avoid a pending catastrophe. I've seen actual plaster casts of a Bugwayjinini footprints, which leaves little doubt that they inhabit this area. The Ojibwe believe the Bugwayjinini were put on Earth by the creator to teach the people medicine. They can build shelters and these are often associated with piles of bones.

Last night I went to the lodge and the owners were apparently out, sailing on the lake. I made a list of the items I took, according to a note they left and asked them to add it to my tab:

• 1 bundle firewood
• 1 bottle Shiraz
• 1 package marsh mellows
• 1 box Honey Maid Graham crackers
• Hershey Bars

The lake is cold, but it's not glacier melt. I could swim in it. They sell leeches as bait here. Some of the huge artificial lures offered for sale imply very big fish live in the lake.

We have been biking every day. There's a paved bike trail that runs nearby. It is built on an abandoned rail line. The RV Park is a combination: marina and RVs. It's very seasonal and most people rent spaces by the season. There are only a few spots for transients like us. We have a spot right on the lake. We're day-to-day because their computer is broken and they have no idea whether they've reserved our spot for someone else.

Probably we'll move on tomorrow. I want to go further north and see the Voyageur National Park up on the border. It's amazing how many National Parks and National Monuments there are that we've never heard of before. I'll always regret missing the Agate Fossil National Monument in Nebraska.

Even a Blind Pig Sometimes Finds a Truffle

Voyageur National Park, Minnesota/Ontario Border

We drove across the Mississippi River yesterday. It was very small here on the Canadian border, almost a stream. It's interesting to think that one could start here and canoe down to New Orleans. Someday, I'd like to do a long canoe trip. The Yukon and the Mackenzie have always been appealing.

I've discovered damselflies. They seem to be attached to the RV in great numbers. They are an order of the Odaonata, which also includes dragonflies. Apparently there are 5,000 known members of the order. I had no idea that dragonflies had so many close relatives. This is a beautiful land of lakes and deciduous and evergreen forests. The rocks are part of the 2.5 billion year old 'Canadian shield': hard granite rubbed low and round by millions of tons and aeons of glaciers.

The news coming out of British Columbia on the west coast is very strange. Feet clad in running shoes have been washing up on the beach. So far there are five right feet and one left foot. The left foot doesn't match any of the right feet. The femurs seen to have been severed by a power tool.

We have a National Park boat trip lined up today. It was 20 miles though forest islands to the Kettle Falls Hotel. There was a two hour break for lunch at the old hotel, twenty miles from the nearest road. I took a 1,510 page copy of Norman Mailer's Harlot's Ghost with me and made a little progress on it after lunch. Mrs Phred had a hard cover Tony Hillerman's: Talking God. I read Harlot's Ghost when it came out in 1991, but my advanced age permits me to re-enjoy a good book with no recollection after a few years' pass.

The Voyageurs used to hump nearly two tons of beaver pelts in big canoes from the Northwest over this natural string of lakes and rivers that extends from here and far westward though the Great Lakes to the Atlantic Ocean. The park sets aside 56 miles of the old waterway that marks the border between Canada and the US. The treaty of 1783, at the end of the Revolutionary War, treated this water communications highway as a natural dividing line between the two countries.

The boat ride up and back was guided by a young, bearded ranger. I think his name was Brendan or something else that sounds Irish and starts with a 'B'. He did a great job, pointing out bald eagles, double breasted cormorants, white pelicans and loons.

Strangely, white pelicans don't dive into the water after fish like the brown ones in Florida. They lack air shock absorbers under the skin so they get in a line of twenty or more and chase the fish up onto the beach.

There is a lot of bootlegger history up here on the border. I used to drive past the windowless 'Blind Pig' bar in Tampa's inner city frequently and wonder what was inside. I learn that it's a bootlegger term. You leave the booze on an island. The customer arrives later and removes the hooch and leaves payment. After a time, the bootlegger retrieves the money. When I was in college I considered being a park ranger. They live in beauty and have cool hats, but they don't make much money.

On the Shore of Gitche Gumee

The Apostle Islands National Seashore, Wisconsin

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,

By the shining Big-Sea-Water,

Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,

Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.

-Wordsworth

They used to make you memorize the poem about the noble Hiawatha and Nokomis back in the 4th grade. I wonder if they still do that? We're camped in our metal wigwam on the shore of Lake Superior. By surface area, it is the largest lake in the world, although two Russian lakes are deeper and contain more water.

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the skies of November turn gloomy.

- Gordon Lightfoot

The SS Edmund Fitzgerald went down in 1975. The notion that the lake never gives up its dead probably derives from the fact that the average water temperature is 36 degrees F, cold enough to inhibit the bacterial growth that makes bodies float.

We drove up to the Lake of the Woods area in Ontario yesterday. We saw a number of beaver lodges on the drive. I had to lock up the brakes on the Toyota to avoid a doe and her fawn.

We ate lunch in Green's Roadhouse near Nestor Falls. We had pickerel for an appetizer. Pickerel are a little (3-5 pound) pike. They are hard to clean. You have to cut them into small strips to avoid the bones. They are not considered very good to eat, but these chunks were breaded, fried and not bad.

The roadhouse was constructed of logs. The door jams were about 5 feet, 6 inches so we think it's been around awhile. We had pierogi for a main course. These were pastries stuffed with cheese and potatoes and covered with bacon and sautéed onions.

Pierogi (also perogi, perogy, pirohi, piroghi, pirogi, pirogen, piroshke or pyrohy), is the name most commonly used in English speaking areas to refer to a variety of Slavic semicircular stuffed dumplings of unleavened dough and varying ingredients.

I bought an Ontario fishing license that's good for a year. Going through immigration and customs is always a hoot these days. We'll make our way along the south shore of Superior and across Ontario and Quebec from here.

The Ontonagon River Canoe Trip

Porcupine Mountains State Park, Michigan

Our camp-site in the State Park is on the shore of Lake Superior. There are a lot of biting black flies here to go with the view. The only canoe trip available is 15 miles on the Ontonagon River. The river doesn't have any current flow to help things along.

Our guide drops us off in a remote area. He has tried to warn us off, explaining that there are eight hours of determined paddling needed to get to the end of the trip. We tell him about much longer paddles in the Everglades. We trade stories about drunken Chicago cops. The same group of 50 that went diving with us in the Bahamas also came up here and pulled in about midnight.

We launch and the flies buzz around our heads as we paddle. Mrs Phred has a mosquito hat. It helps.

The river is pristine. It's never been logged and the banks are covered with lush ferns and summer grass. We see dozens of bald eagles and a beaver dive into the river next to the canoe. There are lots of shallow rocky places where I have to get out and push.

After 11 miles, a fisherman offers to tow us the for last four miles. Mrs Phred whispered, 'Yes!', but I felt that it would ruin the story so we doggedly paddled the last four miles. Ten hours later we pull into the marina in Ontonagon, Michigan. We both have minor muscle aches in our arms today.

Faith in the Bolt

Marquette, Michigan

We are running down the road and suddenly a tremendous scraping noise comes from under the RV. I pull off and see the seven-foot steel generator exhaust pipe on the road. It's still attached on one end by a strap secured by two rusty half-inch bolts. I pull out a deep 1/2 inch socket and try to undo the attached end. Both bolts are rusted and corroded from the heat. One comes off and the other bolt snaps. I remember Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm really mortified about the snapped bolt. I put the pipe in the RV.

Later I examine the exhaust pipe and see the problem. A U-bolt was not tightened adequately when the exhaust pipe was installed at the factory. The U-bolt was intended to secure the exhaust pipe to the generator. Perhaps big jet air planes have better quality control. I hope they do, but my doubts reappear on take-off.

We lost out on some of the things we had hoped for in this area. The fishing trip with 'Uncle Ducky' in search of 60-pound lake trout was $550 rather than the $80-$175 that I usually pay.

We went into Munising to talk to dive boat Captain Lindquist (who I have visualized as a cross between Lloyd Bridges and the crusty Captain of Jaws I) and find out that the next dive trip is not until July 5th.

We go on Captain Lindquist's glass bottom boat to see ancient shipwrecks and I suddenly realize that all the dive sites for the shipwrecks are in 15-30 feet of rocky 55 degree water. I begin to visualize another trip to Puerto Rico for a 125-foot wall dive in warm water or a week on a Caribbean live-aboard. There are over 6,000 documented shipwrecks and 30,000 lost souls in the Great Lakes. One of the shipwrecks is over 200 years old. It's an unidentified French boat that must have appeared to be something like a giant Cheerios box. Not really sea-worthy when the skies of November turn gloomy.

The guy who runs our RV park here appears to be as crazy as an outhouse rat. He talks really fast about obscure civil engineering topics. When I attempt to enter the conversation, he ignores me. Finally I give up. Whenever I see him he has a shovel or a chainsaw. He has built maybe 300 camping spaces here and so far has between one and three guests.

We had a nice lunch today in Marquette after I re secured the exhaust pipe. We bought some Lake Trout. I had a portabello sandwich and Mrs Phred had California sushi rolls. We each had two glasses of Riesling.

A Taste for Lake Trout

Tahquamenon Falls, Michigan

The area we've been traversing for the last week or so is called the 'Upper Peninsula' of Michigan. The two parts of Michigan are not connected. We've been travelling along the southern shore of Lake Superior.

I've developed a taste for lake trout. These monsters come in sizes up to 60 pounds. The flesh, unlike their smaller cousins, is an orange hue. They are delicate and delicious on the grill. Every small town along the lake has a fish store or two where you can buy lake trout, wall-eye, king salmon and whitefish.

It's now been officially three months since we set out on this latest journey. My mind is turning to spreadsheets and databases and I'm beginning to yearn for gainful employment. Whenever that happens, I try to lie down until the feeling goes away.

We went to the upper falls the first thing this morning. It's billed as the second largest fall east of the Mississippi, but I know three right offhand that are bigger.

We move on to a tour of a cranberry farm. We bought some raisin-like dried cranberries, cranberry bar-b-q sauce, cranberry jelly and cranberry dessert topping. The cranberry farm has been in the same family for 125 years. Mrs Phred says she couldn't live in the woods and raise cranberries. I think more empathetically. I imagine all I know is cranberry farming and think about dropping everything and looking for employment in New York City. Cranberry farming has its own hooks.

Next stop is the 'Shipwreck Museum' at the lighthouse on Whitefish Point. The narrows here have accounted for a fair share of the 6,000 shipwrecks and 30,000 lives claimed by the great lakes. One old Captain made me laugh. He sunk four other ships in a month from collisions before going down himself in a fifth wreck. His attitude was 'I'm carrying her Majesty's mail and they need to get out of my way'.

The bell of the Edmund Fitzgerald was on display. That one made an impression on the locals. The modern 'Big Fitz', an ore carrier built in 1958, disappeared in a 1975 November storm with 100 mph winds. The Captain reported a bad list, no light at Whitefish Point and both radar masts swept over board. That was his last transmission. They play some eerie music in the museum and cut over to the Gordon Lightfoot song now and then. I meet the Whitefish Point light keeper and ask him why the light was down during the storm. He is strangely silent.

We buy some lake trout and wine in the afternoon in the little community of Paradise and settle in to read. They're playing 'Dark Side of the Moon' in the fish store. I'm relieved that nobody notices my t-shirt. It's very green here, high summer. The wild flowers are lovely. The north woods are lush and green this time of year. Everything is in a hurry to grow during the short summer months. The fall here is probably lovely. In the winter, the waves on the lake create huge ice sculptures on the frozen lake shore.

I'm dreaming of something else, maybe a long dive trip in to Truk, maybe a job as a lighthouse keeper, maybe something else entirely, like a flat in Ankora or a 100 acre tobacco farm.

We're heading tomorrow for Sault Ste Marie and then Sudbury and Ottawa before entering the US in Cornwall, New York. Ontario has a lot of remote lakes where you can catch Wall-eye and Pike.

The Firecloud Report Archive

Phred Firecloud

02.04.09 Front Page

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