The other morning I returned from an early morning jog and for a cool-down, I walked around our block. One neighbor had a beautiful crop of creeping charlie that reached to mid-calf in places. The soft early-morning light, just past dawn mad it look so beautiful that I had to go grab my camera for a photo.
I have to make a confession: I love Glechoma hederacea, more commonly know as creeping charlie or ground ivy. I love how it grows in thick carpets where grasses are hard to grow, I love the leaves that blush when exposed to the sun and I love the flowers.
What I do not understand is why Americans hate it. I can understand that it is an invasive species and that it may therefore displace native flora. It appears that it is toxic to horses and some livestock and should be controlled near pastures. But those who hate it most do not seem in need to worry about either native flora or livestock. I doubt that the grasses they are trying to protect from ground ivy invasion would survive without careful tending, even in the absence of G. hederacea. And livestock, well, besides a few well fed police horses I haven't seen much.
When doing an internet search for 'creeping charlie' the first 10 hits include the terms control, kill, eradicate and others. Even Wikipedia includes a longish paragraph on G. hederacea control. Interestingly, the German Wikipedia page on Gundermann includes a page on its medicinal and culinary uses and has suggestions on which hybrids to grow a, you guessed it, ground cover. Both the German and French (lierre terrestre=ground ivy) Wikis praise its use in brewing before the use of hops and in the kitchen, to add some spice to salads. Leave it to the French to take it a step further, in France they use the pretty leaves to decorate cakes.
A couple of decades ago, West Publishing (then Thomson West and now Thomson Reuters) made the move to the burbs, trading urban bluff dwellings for a monolith surrounded by square miles of blacktop on the open prairie. The reasons included space, cheap space, and more space (I am sure there were other reasons, too, but I am sticking to the obvious).
I started working there a little more than one decade ago, and the daily trip from the parking lot to the building is somewhat of an adventure. In the summer, the blacktop traps the heat and it feels like the hike back to the car is through Dead Valley. I swear I have seen a Fata Morgana or two over the years, lush oases mirrored in the pools of boiling air. In the winter, if you shun the shuttles to company so kindly provides, one can entertain oneself with juvenile games like spitting on the ground to see whether your expectoration will bounce off the ground with a clink because it gets there flash-frozen.
There are some hiking trails and colleagues claim to have seen coyotes while taking a stroll during lunch break. I believe them because I have seen evidence in the form of paw prints and scat. After a rain storm one can see deer tracks in some muddy puddle along the trail. Wild turkey are a common sighting, too.
I come in early enough to park near to the building and I therefore do not have too much of a hike between car, building and back. Not too much opportunity for wildlife spotting, one would think, but there is plenty.
I mentioned the savage winters. Because quite a few of us early birds do shun the shuttle and because the company fears liability, it installed a heated sidewalk along the roundabout, protecting us from slippery mishaps. One interesting phenomenon can be observed because while everywhere outside frost gets a grip on the land in late November, it does not have a chance under the heated sidewalk. The outcome is that where the footings are not below frost level, adjacent structures, mostly abutting sidewalks, are raised by up to a couple of inches, which makes the heated walkway seem sunk in.
Sunk by the heat or lifted by frost? The voles don't care, they like the heat!
The other observation I made is the surprising level of critter activity along the edge of the flower beds next to the heated sidewalk. By the time the snow melts, a well established vole colony is in evidence. Think of it, they have condos with central heat on one side and a larder well furnished with delicious and nutritious day lily rhizomes on the other.
Voles have no respect for proper decorum or corporate plantings.
Not sure if the pest control guys can do much to keep these rodents in check where conditions are so favorable. I secretly hope they can't because I find the vole colony highly entertaining. But if West is serious about ridding itself of voles, it should consider building an in-ground pool in the vicinity. Voles love the water, but they do seem to forget that they are not very strong swimmers ...
Mellie is our second dog, Barley was the first one. Somewhere I had picked up that a dog's paws smell like a freshly cut grass. I took a good whiff of one of Barley's paws and I had to agree, it smelled just like a mowed lawn.
Barley was a dog of no particular smell, unless she rolled in something disgusting or unless she was wet. Did you know that kid's wet hair smells just like dog's wet fur? Try it. The smell of a dog is just a little more intense, but go figure, while we humans typically have about 200-300 cm2, dogs have more or less 2500, or about 8 to 12 times as many. No wonder a wet dog smells stronger than a wet kid.
I thought that Barley's light aroma was mostly due to the fact that she was a female. I was shocked when I noticed that Mellie, also a bitch, had a rather strong odor. So much for my theory. I investigated and found that the smell had a rather unexpected source: Mellie has smelly feet. Instead of the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass, her feet emmanate the odors of poorly rotted grass clippings in a compost pile. I was just glad that the stink was restricted to such a narrow area.
I ended up doing some more research about this topic. It appears that a dog's paws, just like his ears and anal area are studded with scent glands. Wikipedia has an entry on Dog Odor that provides a little mor detail than I do.
Like every time I load two canoes rather than one I struggled a bit before figuring out how to route ropes and straps around canoes and bars, but as always I figured it out. The result was my Galyan's Woodsman III and Paul's brother's Old Town solidly welded to my trusty Yakima rack. Since I had started putting the canoes on the car before everyone was there we had to finish loading the car the hard way, i.e. stuffing the Odyssey through the side doors. Ben volunteered to sit in outer Siberia, in the sole third-row seat. In spite of the various logistics challenges we managed a punctual departure at 10:00 sharp. We stopped for lunch at the Turtle Lake Subway and resisted the urge to gamble away our shuttle money at the St. Croix Casino. After one more short map reading stop in Winter, WI, we arrived at Big Bear Lodge 1:33, just a few minutes after Craig.
Note the Big Bear Protecting the Lodge
Shuttle
Upon arrival we loaded the canoe trailer with gear and canoes. Craig and I followed Al TePaske, owner of Big Bear Lodge, to Camp 41 Landing and dropped our cars. Then we returned to the lodge, switching to the shuttle vehicle for the drive to Deadman's Slough. Al told us of a hatch of arctic mosquitoes that had survived three consecutive nights of frost and warned us of the beer ticks. He could have said bear ticks or deer ticks, too. Was a little worried that my fleece pullover would fall out of open canoe bag and end up on the road. Loaded canoes under war sun, just after some muskie fishermen took off in rowboat.
Ready to shove off at Deadman's Slough
Deadman's Slough to Oxbo Camp
Left the bank at Deadman's Slough at 3:00 sharp. Swift currents carried us along and made for easy paddling. We passed the muskie anglers, it looked like they were casting beer cans for lures (after our return, Lynn heard a news report about a guy from Ladysmith catching a 51" albino muskie). We saw little wildlife, not even birds. Maybe everyone kept a low profile because of the frequent shots.
Gorgeous Indian Summer PM on North Fork of Flambeau River
Most of the leaves were gone in this part of Wisconsin. Amazing, since this is barely further north than the Twin Cities. Must be because the most common trees are poplars and birch. The odd hemlock and maple were lit up in blazing yellow or orange. After only 1:07 hrs, a little after 4:00, we arrived at Oxbo where we put up camp for night one. This is the same camp site where we pitched tents in the pouring rain 5 or 6 years ago with Carlos.
Al's warning of the mosquitoes proved accurate, everyone was soon doing a slapping dance. A good cold beer helped a little, at least to quench our thirst. Gnats or not, we needed to gather firewood.
Hunting Couple and Firewood Gathering
I started to bushwhack away from the water in search of firewood. I almost immediately chanced upon a recently fallen dead tree, the branches still dry and not yet rotted. My pack saw made quick work of the long branches still attached to the mighty trunk and Joel dragged them off camp-wards. All of a sudden I heard dogs barking and a female voice beckoning the dogs to stay near. I spotted a black lab on the service road, noticing immediately that it was not Mel, because of the red collar. Pretty soon I also made out the owners, she in jeans and a shirt and he in blaze orange with bird gun. I wondered whether to hit the ground or to announce myself. I quickly decided for the latter, started waving my arms in the air while yelling "I'm not a deer, I'm not a deer!" These were serious people or else they did not get that I was just jesting, they greeted me with poise and gravitas and ambled on, still yelling for their dogs, the aforementioned lab and a golden retriever, who were befriending Mellie.
Steak sandwiches from Widmer’s
Since we had enough firewood I returned to camp and started dinner prep, which was not really much. Craig had gotten the fire going and the pre-mixed Martinis were waiting in a row. Since nobody volunteered to sit on the half-frozen steaks, I dipped the zip-loc bag in the river and just waited, moved Joel's tripod grill to the fire and waited some more.
The good steaks from Widmer’s introduced us to the "Word of the Trip," which Joel remembers as dilateral. However, it was sagittal, referring to how I cut the steaks to make thinner, more edible slices. It turns out that this was only partially correct as sagittal cuts divide a body with bilateral symmetry into slices. In anatomy, this would be the plane passing through midline defined by e.g. the navel and spine. "Transverse cut" dividing an item into superior and inferior parts might have been more accurate. I just hope that everyone had the “superior” portions of the steak. I assume my steak seasoning, a teryaki-like concoction I prepared at home found general approval since the bbq-sauce offered as a condiment was scoffed.
Nice rib-eye in the transverse or saggitarious or whatever plane.
While eating the various cookies Ben had brought for dessert, we discussed various topics and turned in when the chill of the night finally got to us. I distributed some ear plugs and retreated to the tent, Mellie and Paul in tow. Joel shared his tent with Ben and David while Craig, ever concerned with his loud breathing and everyone else's night rest retreated to his very expedition-looking mountaineering shelter. Soon, the silence of the night was only interrupted by various loud breathers.
Day 2: October 9, 2010
Mountain Breakfast in Dutch Oven
I awoke 6:00 or so when the plug fell out of my left ear. I snuggled in my sleeping bag for a few more minutes until the pressure in my bladder got to be too much to bear. Mellie was all in favor of getting up, too, so up and at 'em, before sunrise. I got coffee water going and was soon joined by Joel, who busied himself around the fire. During these morning chores Joel suggested a snoring-level rating for the various sleepers. Ben scored a gentle 2, David a slightly better 2-3, preceded by Paul with a respectable 6 and Craig's freight train-like performance scored a solid 10, both for volume and consistency. It was later suggested to bring recording equipment along to document these nightly performances.
When the aroma of freshly brewed Joe wafted through the chill morning air, the rest of the group quickly emerged. This year we had dueling French presses between Craig and my own. I was using Ben's Dunn Bros. Kenyan and Craig was brewing something from the South Shore of Lake Superior with a hint of hazelnut. Between both of us we kept the group well caffeinated.
Dutch Oven Mountain Breakfast in the Making
Craig and Ben started an amazing culinary production called Mountain Breakfast, from Craig's Dutch oven recipe book. From what I recall it was a cocktail (meaning layered) of pork sausage, hash browns, eggs, peppers and cheese. When the still slightly frozen pre-beaten eggs were added I wasn't so sure, but appearances can be deceiving, especially before cooking. The final result was as delicious as it was substantial, laying a solid foundation for the day's activities. I think everyone had seconds and I volunteered to finish off the leftovers. Take no prisoners, as my grandma used to say.
We made quick work of breaking camp and were on the river by 10:30. After the morning coolness, it promised to be another warm fall day. Our little convoy moved towards Hwy 70, enjoying the swift current and the occasional bald eagle. When the highway bridge came into view, a gang of at least 20 four-wheelers passed the parallel bridge for the recreational trail and we were glad that their route crossed ours instead of going along the river.
Spill South of Hwy 70
Reloading the canoe after spill on sleeper rock
We had barely gone a few hundred yards when disaster struck. As mentioned before, the river was high and many rocks and gravel banks were submerged. Except for few swifts and riffles the river had a smooth and quiet appearance, even in places where the gradient was a little steeper. This tended to hide some of the rocks that were just below the surface. The inverted Vs downstream of these boulders were almost invisible when approaching. Paul and I had just passed one of these sleepers and alerted the others. Craig and Joel passed but Ben and David weren't able to avoid a collision. The middle of their canoe got stuck, making it difficult to slide off. Slowly, the canoe tilted upstream and the strong current soon pushed water over the gunwales. David and Ben found themselves in the water and we all went into rescue mode. Craig shouted instructions and guided our unfortunate companions to the river's edge while Paul and I retrieved miscellaneous items. The canoe was quickly emptied of water and reloaded. In spite of our suggestion to change into something dry, Ben and David insisted that it was warm enough for them to let their clothes dry on their bodies. We relented because, according to a formula cited by Craig, the sum of water and air temps were not in the danger zone, i.e. below 120F. With an air temp of well above 70F and a water temp of around 60F, we were well within the safe zone.
During the stretch that followed we checked in with David an Ben but they kept insisting that they were drying alright. Craig wanted to show us one of the sites that had been obliterated in 2003, while he was camping with a group of young teens at a different site nearby. He is convinced that they avoided disaster by a hair, they could have easily picked the site hit by the storm, or the storm could have passed through the site where they stayed. When we closed in on the site, two muskie fishermen were working that side of the river. When we asked whether we could sneak through to get to the site, they said they had already decided on that same spot for their lunch. Since we weren't going to arm wrestle them over it, we kept going. We stopped at a different site, and had a quick lunch and stretched our legs. I decided to pass on lunch because breakfast had me still sated.
Camp 2 at Boy Scout Camp, South of County Road W
The paddling stretch after lunch passed very quickly. We went under the CR W bridge and passed Big Bear Lodge. Craig suggested we pick the first or second camp site as they were nice and open and would provide some sun to dry the wet clothing and gear. We decided on the second site, Boy Scout Camp 2, because it was just that much further away from CR W and the road noise. Our first find was a beer bong fashioned out of a hose and a bottomless plastic water bottle. It lay neatly curled around the fire pit as if the previous users intended to return for some more funneling. Far from using it for its intended purpose, we pressed it into service for dog feces removal when Mellie decided to "go" a little too close for comfort. The sturdy plastic hose was great to fling the excrement far into the bushes. We made sure to leave the instrument in a handy spot in case some other traveler or the original owners had an urgent need for it.
Pitching tents at this level and roomy location was easy. Firewood was plentiful and soon the camp was set up. Ben had most of his spare clothes in a simple duffle, consequently, they wer soaked and some water had found its way even into David's dry bag. Our camp site was thus transformed into a drying area for all sorts of items. The fire we had lit was alos helping to dry and in the case of some socks to roast some of the wet gear. Lesson learned: Good to take an extra precaution by wrapping fresh clothes in an extra layer of plastic, be it a simple garbage bag or one of those fancy Ziploc 5 gallon bags that David had sparing him the extra work Ben had had to deal with. The mid-afternoon heat (I can't believe I am using this expression in October) made more than one of us drowsy and some retreated to their tent, if only to escape the gnats. When the sun started setting, David began with dinner preparations.
David's Most Excellent Chili
He had prepared a hearty chili with meat cubes, based on a recipe from Alice's Restaurant Cook Book which we heated on the Coleman two-burner stove in the two biggest pots we could find. It looked and smelled delicious and tasted even better. Again, cookies, this time Paul's, for dessert and a shot of Luxembourgish Quetsch, a local rot-gut plum spirit. The biting insects fled the chill of the night and we were able to enjoy some stories, political discussions, an incredible starry night sky and coyotes yipping in the distance undisturbed. After this bucolic and by any measure satisfying evening we turned in and soon, the coyotes were outdone by the snorers.
Mellie isn't so sure about the coyotes in a distance
Day 3: October 10, 2010
I spent a good night, probably thanks to the well seated ear plugs for my tent mate Paul was in fine form, maybe courtesy of the firewater and chili? Later, the others would rave about the coyotes they heard all night long. I only heard the one during the previous night while sitting around the fire.
Boy Scout Camp, just South of CR W. Note the foggy center of the lens,
courtesy of the chilly morning and my inattentiveness.
I got up a little before 6:00 and mounted a little wood gathering expedition. I dragged some nice dry branches out of the woods. During my first wood run out I heard a great horned owl (Bubo virginianus) and on my second a truck with a pack of bear hounds drove by. When I returned to camp, Joel was up. I started the fire and busied myself with the coffee press while Joel began his blueberry pancake breakfast preparation. Like on the previous morning, the smell of coffee got everyone to emerge from their cocoons. Joel prepared three packs of bacon in the dutch oven and fried cakes in the griddle on the Coleman. The second burner kept providing us with more hot coffee water and breakfast was another great success. We kept eating until everything was gone.
The Girl Who Played With Fire--Literally or Literary?
Even or rather especially during short trips it is amazing how the packs get smaller and lighter. It seemed like we were down by about 1/3 of bulk and weight when everything was packed and loaded. Of course it helped that we got rid of unnecessary bulk, like e.g. the read and water-logged 2/3 of The Girl Who Played With Fire.
We were back on the river before 10:00, for what we anticipated to be a 2:00 hr. paddle. I had finally figured out how to set up the little GoPro HD Camera and made good use of it as we were moving towards Porcupine Rapids. The guide books rated them as C1-C2 but we did not know what the high water would do to them. If anything we felt like we needed to be prepared for more sleepers under the surface.
En route to the rapids we saw a good number of bald eagles, an eagle's nest and king fishers. a tree crashing into the forest river right startled us and we paddled by a few cabins. On one of the larger islands stood an abandoned cabin. The rapids were indeed a little larger than the ones we had seen during the previous days but they were still quite tame. Craig led the way and he was an excellent guide. Needing to pay attention for submerged rocks kept this stretch interesting and following the line drawn by Craig's canoe kept us out of trouble. It seemed that we saw the sign of Camp 41 Landing much too early, but there it was, the end of this year's fall trip.
I do have to say that traveling with a larger group has its advantages. Moving gear and canoes to the cars seemed like child's play. much easier to load the car before lifting the canoes on the rack and fortunately, I had not forgotten how to rig the canoes to the carrier. Within about 30 minutes we were ready to take off. We decided to stop at CR W landing for one last picture. We bade farewell to Craig and were homeward bound as well.
Homeward bound, not quite. Joel had sparked my curiosity about an American icon in nearby Phillips, Concrete Park when he told me about a bike trip on which he and Peggy had stumbled over this place.
When do you get to rub shoulders with a genuine copy of Silver?
Concrete Park, Phillips, WI
We decided to take the 15 mile detour and were glad that we did. We were much amused by Fred Smith's sculptures though Craig, who wasn't along, thought we might have been abducted by aliens upon seeing the photographs.
Prehistoric Mammals? No, a moose family including
papa moose, mama moose and suckling moose.
As an epilogue we need to mention the many welts we had sustained from the arctic gnats and skeeters. However, nobody had it as bad as smelly Mellie, I picked at least two dozens of beer or deer or wood or dog ticks from her during the week following our adventure.
Mellie and Bear Hounds at Fred Smith's Concrete Park
We made the final selection of river: Flambeau, from Deadman’s Slough to Camp 41
Big Bear Lodge will be providing the shuttle at a total cost of $65. Everyone please bring $12 (+tip) in cash to pay the livery.
The Twin Cities group will meet on Friday, October 8 around 9:30 AM at Christian's for a 10:00 AM departure. According to various mapping resources, the trip will take a little more than 3 hours.
The green dot is our starting point at Deadman's Slough and the red dot is our end point at Camp 41. Maps can be found at here: Flambeau River State Forest.
We should be on the water by 4:00 at the latest which gives us plenty of time for a leisurely 4-5 mile paddle to our first camp.
We are four weeks out. I just checked water levels for the upper St. Croix, they are just below OK whereas the levels for the Flambeau they are great as of yesterday, Sep 8. It looks like we are closing in on the Flambeau!
As we move closer, please consider the following:
Meals: People self-selected for one of the slots, sorry Ben, you were late for Saturday morning.
Lunches, from your personal stash. I like to bring whole weat bread, cheese and sausage. Everyone as they like it.
Friday dinner: Christian will do his traditional first night steak dinner, i.e. BLT with steak instead of B.
Saturday breakfast: Craig
Saturday dinner: David
Sunday breakfast: Joel
Paul and Ben will be assistant cooks. Dish duty is shared by those who are not involved in preparing the meal.
2. Gear:
Canoes: Craig has one and I have one. Ben, David or Paul, do you have or can you organize a third canoe? If not, I'd suggest renting at the U of MN Rec Dept , they charge $35 for the initial three days. Best rate anywhere. One problem: they open at noon, we need to pick up on Thursday if we want to get an early start on Friday. As I mentioned before, I can easily haul two canoes.
Canoe packs: I have enough for 2-3 people. I also find that cheap storage boxes from Target work quite well for a tame river trip. They are quite water proof in the event of rain.
Tents: we've got 5+1 for sleeping, i.e. Craig insist on sleeping in splendid isolation because of his loud breathing. Seems we need two more tents. I have a snug three person and Joel has one, too. Ben, David or Paul, if you are insisting on your own, please let us know. Oh, and I am planning to bring my dog Mellie along. She's like the cat in Catch22, sleeps on your face and bites your nose off when you wake up from a suffocating nightmare (in fact she is a lamb and suffers the cold nights shivering silently except for her shattering teeth. Ask Joel).
Sleeping bags and pads. I assume everyone has this. If not, pipe up, I am sure we can come up with the necssary.
Kitchen: I think we've got it covered: Joel for the tripod grill, Christian two-burner Coleman stove and French press and Craig the dutch oven (yummm). Add to this list for any items you need to prepare your meals or you cannot do without
Living area: plan to bring your favorite camp chair. I'll bring a tarp, in case it rains (or snows).
The North Fork of the Flambeau is tame ... a few ripples. Water levels can be an issue. We'll be looking at a stretch of around 20 miles
Nine-Mile Creek or Dead Man's Slough (gulp) which is west of Fifield on hwy 70 to "Camp 41" take-out.
Lotsa wildlife ... and then there's the animals. I paddled this scenic stretch a number of times a few years ago (including once with Joel, Pablo and Christian). Order a map from Flambeau River State Forest, W1613 Co. W, Winter, WI 54896 or call at 715-332-5271 today or print it out from the State Forest web site, above.
There's a good mix of challenging whitewater and peaceful stretches below W. In this section of river, you are in the heart of the Flambeau River State Forest. There are two campgrounds, Lake of the Pines and Connors Lake, located a short drive east of the river off of Highway W. Launch at the Highway W bridge. About 5 miles into the trip, you will encounter Porcupine Rapids. The Porcupine Rapids are difficult, and there are 3 main drops in this set of rapids. Proceed through this section of river carefully - there’s a good deal of current at this point.
I (Craig) took multiple trips thru this section (Porcupine Rapids) with a bunch of inexperienced 12 year olds and no one had great difficulty. We would take-out a mile or so downstream of these rapids at Camp 41.
that David had sparing him the extra work Ben had had to deal with. The mid-afternoon heat (I can't believe I am using this expression in October) made more than one of us drowsy and some retreated to their tent, if only to escape the gnats. When the sun started setting, David began with dinner preparations.
