Seaside

We've left the seaside behind--a week on Genie's native Cape Cod shore and the more rugged coast of Maine. Not enough time in either place, but this has been a journey for mere sampling. Still, we saw enough of those places to know that we'll return for a longer periods in the future. Nauset, Cummaquid, Nantucket, Provincetown, Camden, populated respectively with body surfers, horseshoe crabs, blueblooded daysailors, drag queens, and lobsters. The boys have expanded their grasp of natural history.

We spent the weekend at Chris and Gayla's lakeside camp (read cabin) in Rangeley, Maine, a place absolutely identical to Brimson except for the mountains that rise in the distance and large hills near the lake. White pine and birch abound, as do mosquitos and black flies. But we were beyond that season--we felt the first breath of autumn and stayed snug inside while it rained and rained. We're not pollyannas, finding a silver lining in every obstacle, but this was just what we needed--a weekend of books, games, and easy comfort among great friends.

We're in Vermont this morning with Arleigh (Genie's neice) and Jay, and the two youngest progeny of the Petrovits line, newborn twins Sophia and Taj. From here we leave family and country behind. We plan to camp every night across Canada, depending on whether we can escape the sights of Montreal later today. Plenty of miles of two-lane Canadian shield highway lie between us and home waters.

© 2006 Michael Nordskog

High Point

We have reached the halfway point of our trip, and after one slight day in NYC, we're currently enjoying the Hudson River valley at the home of Jeff Bark and family. We had a wonderful side trip to the roots country of Genie's mom in Colesville, New Jersey, the highest part of the state. The old Campbell property borders High Point State Park, where we camped for the night. Natural settings don't come to mind when most of us think of New Jersey, but these highlands are beautiful, covered with mature forests and small lakes surrounded by sharp ridges and plenty of bedrock, and threaded by the Appalachian Trail.

After a peaceful night's sleep in the tent, our second campout of the trip (the first ended soddenly with a morning deluge on Lake Michigan in an Illinois state park), we drove a few miles to visit Genie's first cousin Jim and family, folks she had never met. They showed us around the farmstead, complete with old stone walls and an ancient barn--the core of the farmhouse itself dates to the mid-eighteenth century. Best of all, they directed us up the brook that Monnie always recalls so fondly, to a waterfall with the family reputation as the highest in New Jersey. It was the highlight of the property until they recently sold 35 of their 40 acres to the state as an addition to the state park. Among other mysteries, we saw via an old baby picture of Jim's sister Edie that Jasper does indeed favor the Campbell side of his provenance.

We have put a wonderful day in Chicago behind us, and a very comfortable weekend stay with Brian Nordskog and family in Pittsburgh, where their new pool mitigated the last of the big heat wave. From here we bear northeast to Cape Cod, new ground to everyone but Genie, followed by stays on the coast and in the mountains of Maine. Strangely, this morning's New York Times travel page examined both of these destinations along with Minnesota's Arrowhead!

© 2006 Michael Nordskog

Viroqua

We have escaped the summer heat in Minneapolis--101 by late afternoon--and traded it in for the summer heat in the driftless region of southwestern Wisconsin. Yesterday, we embarked on a three-week drive to New England and back. It felt downright unhealthy to close up the house when it was still 95 degrees inside. But the three-hour air-conditioned drive to Genie's mom's farm in Viroqua completely erased the compiled tension and sweat of a long day in the garage getting the car packed and ready.

The duration of our trip is greatly encouraged by all of the dear folk we will visit along the way, family and friends conveniently spaced a short day's drive apart all the way to our easternmost destination, Camden, Maine. This first stop is a frequent destination, but also conveniently enroute to Chicago, and any chance to avoid a full day in the car is welcome. We head to the windy city tomorrow, planning to spend much of Thursday on the waterfront visiting the Field Museum and taking in the spectacle of a tall ships festival. But first we linger here for a day with Helena and Alexandra, watch the soybeans and corn grow by another fraction, and await a promised cold front and thunderstorms to wash over the old Runge farmstead in Harmony township.

In a couple of weeks, we will repatirate via that most familiar of foreign lands, Ontario, where we know nobody and thus intend to camp on the hard Canadian ground. I anticipate at least a few details worth relating en route: the phantom hitchhiker of the turnpike, the ghost ships of Nantucket, the rich smell of roadkill. And three weeks in small quarters with a four- and two- year-old promises at the very least an occasional rant. But today it's familiar Viroqua, steamier than usual, a small town wholesome and groovy all out of proportion.


© 2006 Michael Nordskog