Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you
could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous
pleasures are ‘patches of Godlight’ in the woods of our experience.
C.S. Lewis
I am grateful to have spent the weekend in one of my favorites places with some of my most loved people, and also for the 'patches of Godlight' that I was able to revel in. Reentry into real life is both harsh and hurried, but I am holding onto the cozy memories made, the holy places visited, and the warm embraces shared. Trips like this sustain me when life feels rote or mundane, and also when it feels arduous or aloof.
There is something so energizing about packing up the car with the essentials: wool sweaters, fuzzy mittens and hats, trail mix and a cache of movies and books and games, and then heading north where you may or may not get cell service. I've been taking Door County vacations since I was a child so traveling to the peninsula is the equivalent of putting on my favorite pair of worn in jeans. To say I have a strong affinity for the row of quaint towns is a drastic understatement. This place is my second skin. Over the long weekend, Coach and I tallied up at least two dozen visits in the time we have been together so it's definitely tradition.
We've had this same time next year November soiree the past few years with my family, and I'm rather fond off the timing because it's technically "off season." Off season means that there is solitude during walks in the woods. It means you are past peak, but I don't think Mother Nature could have given us a much more beautiful display of changing leaves in season, and then we would have had to share the view with so many other revelers. It also means that many shops and restaurants will be closed, but we've been coming long enough to not only appreciate, but also anticipate the dedicated diehards who remain open. It also means that the wind off the Bay or the Lake (depending on where you stand) will chill you to your bones, but that very shiver reminds me that I am alive...feeling....experiencing.
We were spontaneous and lucky to get an early start Thursday noon. We drove up in torrential rains and thick fog, which seemed apropos given it was Halloween. The weather actually cooperated and set the scene for our haunted trolley tour that evening. It made visiting spirited cemeteries, light houses and homes all the more eerie especially for our already weary Bit. But we were looking over our shoulders and at the foot of our beds for little Hughie all weekend long. We were a little water logged and a lot hungry after our spooky ride so we stopped at The Bayside Tavern for a bite to eat. The pizza was just as spicy good as my taste buds remembered. So good that the four of us polished off the whole pie, and rumor has it that one in the party had a side of chicken tenders too. Those chicken tenders are tradition in their own right.
We woke early enough the next morning well rested for a full day. A full day of exploring and hiking and shopping and lunching and swimming before the rest of our family arrived just before dinner. We ventured up to Ellison Bay to hike a new trail. We were glad we did the minute we turned onto the tree canopied road. It was brilliantly yellow and quietly remote with stunning views of the Bay. The way the cliffs jettisoned over the shore made me feel a tad woozy and worried. It made my kids laugh to see me paralyzed by the craggy sometimes vertical paths. It was a group effort to get me to certain vistas for views, but I think I can say I confronted my fear of heights even if I didn't succeed in conquering it.
We stopped for lunch at Al Johnson's. There were no goats on the roof that chilly Friday. I always love their Limpa bread sandwiches, but I decided to order a Swedish meatball sandwich instead. When in Rome...or when in Sweden. I must confess that it was a major disappointment and if I ever return, I will not feel the need to authenticate my experience. The Swedish meatballs I like are, apparently, not very Swedish. Getting a great shot of Miss Bit in a viking hat and drinking ice cold coke out of pewter mugs made up for my menu misstep.
The fam trickled in for a quick happy hour and then we high tailed it out for a authentic Door County fish boil at my Dad's request. It was a good request too because the whitefish was so fresh and tasty even if a little bony. (Pin bones are a #@$%@*!) Nothing some clarified butter and homemade tarter sauce could not remedy. The cherry pie ala mode was truly icing on the cake. Sadly we missed the big boiling show, but this weekend was about going with the flow...being flexible, and I think we all did a noble job of that Most of us have been to fish boils before so we already knew that the most important part is what ends up on the plate. We stayed up a little late talking and playing poker. I had flashbacks of being a kid. I remembered moments just like those we were presently making, only now I was the adult and here with my children. Generations. Passing batons. Reminiscing. Reconnecting. Rejoicing.
Saturday I woke up to the smell of coffee just the way my brother likes it...so strong it just about puts hair on my chest. I like it that way too when on vacation. It was a gloriously slow start to a long day. We were all together, but doing our own things: watching a movie, playing guitar, reading, getting a breathe of fresh air. Vacation mornings are special in that we are all together in our separate pursuits. The main event for the day was a hike along leafy shore lined trails. It was shaping up to be bliss until Bodi decided to be a trailblazer. We spent an hour combing the paths calling for him more and more desperately. Little did we know he was having the hike of his life with the resident dog guide, Gunner. Then once we found Bodi, we lost my Dad, and it's all the makings for a good comedy of errors, which we rehashed over a greasy lunch on Kangaroo Lake. It may or may not have been 4:00. And the only thing most of us had eaten all day was a corner of cider donut and a handful or two of trail mix. We came home and succumbed to long hot showers, naps or swims before gearing up for a night of Wizard and Wild Tomato. We played more cards and ate pizza until we started nodding off. I went to bed thankful for an extra hour of sleep and every single person snoozing under the same roof.
We skipped our beloved White Gull Inn breakfast and ate cold pizza for Sunday breakfast with more strong coffee or apple cider. Then we went in three different directions: to the stables, the links or the shops and I dare say everyone was amply entertained. Once Bit heard that horseback riding was an option, she was steadfast with her desire. She met Picasso and now she wants a horse. I'm not sure if Grandpa remembers, but he promised to clear some of his land, buy her one and board it. We met up for a late afternoon snack at an Egg Harbor brew pub before all going our separate ways...home.
The weekend went fast...too fast. They always do, but I have a little comfort in knowing that we will be here same time next year, if not before.
