"Cold Cow" wins Grand Prize in WisconsinNative.com photo contest

A photograph showing the "stark contrast of beast against Mother Nature on a cold and snowy Wisconsin winter day" has been awarded the Grand Prize in the first WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

"Cold Cow," by Terry Mayer of Genoa City, was taken on January 21, 2008, near Darien, with the frigid cold illustrated by the scene of a Black Angus cow standing in the field while the snow falls around him and freezes to his face.

Mayer's photo was the first-place winner in the Rural Scene category and then chosen as Grand Prize winner among the top photos in each of nine categories.

For his work, Mayer won $1,000.

Mayer shared this story about the winning photo: "It was a very snowy day and I was out driving around looking for a photo that would show the snow and cold. I came across cows in a field during the snow storm, but it wasn't right, for some reason I didn't feel the photo. So I pressed on with the idea in my head of cows in the snow just looking for the right one. I crept along in the my car going 10 mph on the country roads that are the last to get plowed, so I should have turned around, but I really wanted the photo that was in my head. Towards the end of the day as it was starting to get dark I saw this cow on the side of the road in a farmers field. I just grabbed my camera forgetting about my coat and gloves. The black cow caught my eye first then I saw the frost and snow around his face, his eyes were so cold looking and he just stood and stared at me. I left the shutter open a little longer to get the streaks of flakes but left the 2.8 aperture wide open to get the shallow depth of field and concentrate on the face and the nice detail and contrast. It was so cold I couldn't see the screen on the camera so it wasn't until the next day I downloaded the card and saw the image."

Terry Mayer took the winning shot using a Nikon D2hs with an 80-200-mm Nikon lens, an ISO speed of 1000, with no flash in natural light that was overcast and dark.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "The stark contrast of beast against Mother Nature on a cold and snowy Wisconsin winter day created a photograph with high intrigue and strong dramatic appeal. The interplay between black and white, the textural detail and the dynamic cropping all contributed to the success of this artful and abstract image."
Overall, Theno said she was impressed with the quality of work submitted in the photo contest and the variety of Wisconsin scenes represented in the work.

Here are winners in other categories:

Great Outdoors -- "John Nolen Sunbeams," was taken just after sunrise on October 7, 2007 by Vicki France of Mt. Horeb. Vicki explains how she caught the photo: "Every single day I drive to work hoping for the weather to do something dramatic and for a photo composition to appear. On this early day in October the fog was lifting and the sun was working its way through and I was just one mile from work and thinking to myself...what a shame to lose out on such a beautiful dramatic morning. Then I decided to swing into Olin Park and drive the short loop (who cares if I'm late for work ...I wanted a picture) and when I stepped out of the car I saw this enchanted world opening up before me and my heart began to sing. I half expected fairies to come out of the woods and be dancing and singing. I knew I had to capture the moment and the place quickly before the light changed. This photo was a pivotal point my photography in that I have been on a mission to capture "Enchanted Worlds" ever since."

Vicki France took the winning shot using a Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL 20D with an aperture of F/7.1, exposure time of 1/160 of a second and an ISO speed of 800.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "This image, a spectacular mixture of rich color and light, creates a mood that is almost dreamlike. There were a number of wonderful photos in this category, but this image stood apart because of its beauty and technical excellence."

Urban Scene -- "I find few subjects as frustrating, fickle, frightening, and rewarding as lightning," said the winning photographer in the Urban Scene category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

"May 25, 2008," by Phil Ejercito of Madison, is a dazzling shot of lightning flashes over the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art. Phil said he had been craving a good storm, "It had been since August of the year before that I'd gone out to shoot a storm, so when this late-night storm blew through in late May, I was raring to go. I remember this storm being very electrically active, but unfortunately very fast-moving and dropping heavy precipitation, two factors that would make me less inclined to go shoot. Still, though, watching the storm on radar, I waited until the heaviest precipitation had passed by, noted the direction of travel of the storm, and lined that up in my head as to where I could shoot and what I could frame with, then ran out the door over to State Street. There was still some light rain, and thankfully plenty of electrical activity in the skies, but the biggest challenge was the 50 mph wind gusts. I got everything set up, braced against the tripod, shot, shot, shot some more, until I knew when I opened the shutter for this particular photo, that this was the one. I packed up and scurried home, grateful to have gone out to shoot lightning and come home alive once again."

Phil Ejercito took the winning shot using a Canon EOS 20D, with an aperture of F/5.6, an exposure time of 2 seconds and an ISO speed of 100.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the CA unique restaurant with sixty years of history is the winner in the Wisconsin Attractions category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

Wisconsin Attractions -- The photo, "Ardy," by Joel Witmeyer of Menasha, was taken on April 4, 2008. It shows Ardy and Ed's Drive-In glowing in the morning sun. This Oshkosh landmark is an authentic 1950's style drive-in, complete with roller skating car hops and draft root beer. The photo consists of 5 exposures blended together with automatic bracketing at -2, 0, +2 and 2 manual exposures.

Joel Witmeyer took the winning shot using a Canon 20d with a Tamron SP AF17-50mm lens, at F/2.8.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "Is it the birth of the drive-in diner or the death of it? Either way, this is a great character image of a true Wisconsin attraction. The great sky and the soft light wrapping itself around the corner of the diner accentuate both the mood and straightforward composition."hicago Tribune: "Great timing, technique and strong composition coupled with a bit of luck came together to create a wild and powerfully surreal urban spring storm photo."

Wisconsin Pets -- Phil the cat earned plenty of treats for being such a cooperative subject and Phil the photographer earned top place for the shot, "July 31, 2008," the winner in the Wisconsin Pets category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

Phil Ejercito of Madison, cat-sitting for a friend who was in between leases, couldn't resist getting a photo of the cat waking up from a sink nap. He explains the story behind the picture, "Let's get this out of the way: my name is Phil, and this cat's name is Phil. It's really bizzare to meet a pet that shares your name. I ended up cat-sitting Phil and needless to say, my cat Tela was not pleased with this new addition to the household. I always keep Tela out of the bathroom, so it made sense that Phil would seek refuge there. Of course, it's absolutely impossible to walk by a cute cat napping in a bathroom sink without wanting to take a picture. I wanted him yawning and stretching, so I put on a 10mm lens stopped down to f/8 so I could get right up in his face and not have to wait for auto-focus to lock. Trying to keep things at a reasonable shutter speed and ISO, I slapped a window green gel on my flash to match the bathroom's fluorescent lighting, put a diffuser made out of a rubbing alcohol bottle on the flash, waited for a good stretch and yawn, then shot."

Phil Ejercito took the winning shot using a Canon EOS 20D with an exposure time of 1/30 of a second and an ISO speed of 400.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "This category had several humorous pet photos, but this one came out on top because in addition to having great personality, it was well composed, well lit and, most opportunely, well-timed."

Recreational Sports -- The winning photographer in the Recreational Sports category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest had to deal with more than tough lighting conditions to get the shot, there were also bullets flying.

"Roundup" was taken on May 24, 2008 by Todd F. Bischoff of Sun Prairie on a camping trip just outside of Crivitz. Todd explains the backdrop of the photo, "Every year a good group of my friends head north to camp, fish, shoot, and generally have fun. We have dubbed the event the "Redneck Round-up." This photo was taken during our sharpshooting competition where we all shoot at clay pigeons and various other objects at the end of the shooting range. Lighting is always a challenge during mid-day due to harsh shadows and bright highlights, and not getting a hole in myself was an added challenge for this photo. There were 2-3 people firing anything from a .22 to a .306 to a .44 Magnum at any given time. So I had to be alert and mindful of everything going on. And of course, I wanted to shoot as well, so when I was taking photos, I had a gun in hand."

Todd F. Bischoff took the winning shot using a Canon 20D with a Canon EF 24mm f/2.8 lens, and an exposure of 1/200 of a second at f/9.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "This photograph has a marvelous documentary quality to it and draws the observer into the image through the use of multiple layers -- a distinct foreground, a middle scene and a background -- each with something unique to explore and ponder. The use of black and white contributes to this, keeping the focus on the subjects and turning this image into a curious three-dimensional tableau."

Hometown Happenings -- A photo taken at the 36th annual Iola Old Car Show is the winner in the Hometown Happenings category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

"1947 Dodge Truck" was taken July 15, 2008 by Joel Witmeyer of Menasha at one of the midwest's largest old car shows. Joel said that the clouds were perfect for the background on that morning, making an amazing reflection on the 1947 Dodge Truck. If you look closely you can see an image of the photographer reflected as well.

Joel Witmeyer was using a Canon 20D with a Tamron SP AF17-50mm lens with an aperture of F/2.8 when he took "1947 Dodge Truck." The shot actually consisted of 3 exposures blended together with automatic bracketing at -2, 0, and +2 with exposure compensation.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor at the Chicago Tribune: "This beautiful image is a great example of a photographer enjoying the journey as much as the destination. Great use of color, composition, found design and light -- they all contribute to the success of this photo."

College/Pro Sports -- They say that when you run the sausage race, everyone's a weiner, and it's certainly true of our winner in the College/Pro Sports category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

"Hit the Showers (Post Race)" was taken on the afternoon of June 19th, 2008 by Neil Stechschulte of Sun Prairie when the Milwaukee Brewers played the Toronto Blue Jays. Neil remembers, "I was lucky enough to be taking the day off of work to go to the Brewers game with my Dad, which I hadn't done in years. Our seats were in left field, so the Weiner Race participants came right towards us when they were done. It just wouldn't be a home Brewers game without this event. (Now if they would only let Bernie Brewer slide into his mug of beer again.) For the record, the Bratwurst (#1) finished first, and the Brewers held on to win 8-7 over the Toronto Blue Jays."

Neil Stechschulte took the winning shot using a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XTi with a Canon EF 75-300mm lens, an aperture of F/5, and an ISO Speed of 400. There was no flash and the weather was partly sunny with mixed clouds when "Hit the Showers (Post Race)" was taken.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "You can’t go wrong with the Racing Sausages at Miller Park – they always make good entertainment and often make a fun photo, like this one. The added bonus is the element of fans. They provide a bit of scale and create an interesting composition."

High School Sports -- A photo of an unsuccessful pick-off play at first base is the first-place winner in the High School Sports category of the WisconsinNative.com photo contest.

"Close Play at First" was taken July 14 by Dan Herrmann of Franklin and shows the dirt flying as a player dives back to first, beating the pitcher’s pick-off throw. The runner at first base was taking a large lead off in trying to steal second when the pitcher threw to the Oak Creek first baseman who in turn tried to put the tag on the West Allis player. The photo was taken at Oak Creek where the home team was playing West Allis in critical baseball game in an effort to clinch the conference title.

Dan Herrmann said he was practicing on taking some action sports pictures when the picture was taken. He shot the photo using a Canon Rebel XT with a 70 to 200mm F4 lens. "Close Play at First" was shot at ISO 400 at F5.6 with a shutter speed at 1/1000.

Said Judge Meg Theno, senior photo editor of the Chicago Tribune: "Good job by the photographer getting the peak action moment at first base, including the nice splash of sand."

Go Green Travel Wisconsin: Cedar Grove Cheese

At Christmas time, Wisconsinites love their cheese and cheese gifts -- and a great place to look for your "green and gold" cheese is at Cedar Grove Cheese near Plain in Sauk County.

The cheesmaker traces its roots to 1878 and makes specialty and organic cheeses, plus makes fresh curds daily. Tours are offered Monday through Saturday, every half hour from 8:30 a.m.. to 1:30 p.m. (The price is $3 for adults; groups of six or more should call ahead.)
Included on the tour is the factory's innovative "Living Machine" water treatment system, which uses a natural and efficient process to treat wastewater.

Fellow blogger, Jeanne Carpenter, has introduced her Cheese Underground readers to Incubator Cheesemaker Bob Wills at Cedar Grove.

Says Jeanne: "Bob is a Master Cheesemaker who graciously opens his plant to about a half dozen other Wisconsin cheesemakers who use it during downtime to make their own award-winning cheeses, and he also crafts cheeses for several cooperatives and farmsteads. In fact, Bob is renowned in the Wisconsin cheesemaker world for mentoring dozens of up and comers, and has launched many an award-winner."
Cedar Grove Cheese
Travel Green Wisconsin Green Guide Score – 61
Green highlights and innovative practices-- Involved with Food Alliance, a project that helps farmers implement sustainable practices.-- Uses a Living Machine™, which uses a natural and efficient process to treat wastewater.-- Uses an efficient refrigeration system for whey cooling & cheese storage.-- Promotes organic, local, grass-based (grazed) dairy products, cheese and whey (is a supplier of organic whey powder)
Web site -- http://www.cedargrovecheese.com/
Contact informationVoice: (608) 546-5284 or toll-free (800) 200-6020Email: info@cedargrovecheese.comAddress: E5904 Mill Rd, Plain, WI 53577

Go Green Travel Wisconsin: Apostle Islands National Lakeshore

One of Wisconsin’s true gems, the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore is a year-round wonderland and a model for green travel and sustainability efforts.

Here is an excerpt from a description provided to the Travel Green Wisconsin program:
“Along windswept beaches and cliffs, visitors experience where water meets land and sky, culture meets culture, and past meets present. The 21 islands and 12 miles of mainland host a unique blend of cultural and natural resources. Lighthouses shine over Lake Superior and the new wilderness areas. Apostle Islands National Lakeshore has more lighthouses than any other National Park Service area with 8 historic towers on 6 islands. … The Bayfield Visitor Center is a good place to begin your National Lakeshore visit, whether by car, afoot, or by private boat. At the visitor center you can view audiovisual programs and study exhibits about the park's history, natural history, and recreation opportunities.”

Even in winter, the lakeshore provides unique and isolated getaways. The most popular destination in winter is to visit sea caves along the mainland shore near the western boundary. About a mile across a lake-ice trail, visitors will find dozens of caves, each filled with icicles and intricate ice formations.

For details, check out the National Park Service web site on the Sea Caves. For the most current information on access to the sea caves, call the main Park Service number at (715) 779-3397 and choose Extension 3.


Another popular winter activity is to escape to Madeline Island, across from Bayfield, to enjoy snowshoe hiking in the 2,400-acre Big Bay State Park,which gets nearly 80 inches of snow in a typical year.


A good place to start any visit is at the Park Service Bayfield Visitors Center. During winter, the center is open Monday through Friday, 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.


Apostle Islands National Lakeshore


Travel Green Wisconsin Green Guide Score – 84


Green highlights and innovative practices

-- Uses recycled lumber on boardwalks and stairs.

-- All island water systems use solar electricity.

-- Historic Raspberry Island light station has been rehabilitated and powered by solar or propane.

-- All boat and snowmobile engines have been replaced with cleaner 4-stroke engines.

-- Implemented slope stabilization projects that include the use of bioengineering techniques to stabilize eroding bluffs.


Web site -- www.nps.gov/apis


Contact information:Voice: 715-779-3397Email: apis_superintendent@nps.gov
Address -- 415 Washington Ave., Bayfield, WI 54814


The above photo, Sea Caves at Sunset on Devils Island, is by Phillip L. Billings.

Dennis McCann: Searching by the dock of the bay

Originally published Dec. 10, 2008

Half of the time you could ask me what I was doing at this time yesterday and I’d have to think long and hard to answer. The old cranial database is getting increasingly leaky.

But ask me what I was doing 41 years ago today and watch with wonder as I come up with the answer. I was riding around Lake Monona in Madison that foggy evening in my friend Tom Hart’s car, helping searchers look for the remains of Otis Redding’s sunken plane.


Well, that’s too generous by half. We were riding around looking for the searchers, not that there was much of anything we could have done to help beyond general rubbernecking and head shaking, and there’s never a shortage of that kind of “help”. The real truth is we didn’t find the searchers anyway, so the recovery of the twin-engine plane that carried Redding, the hot young soul singer, and his band, the Bar-Kays, was eventually accomplished without our teenage contributions. But it left us with a we-were-there moment for the ages, even if we weren’t really.

Redding, his manager, pilot and four members of the Bar-Kays, all en route to Madison for two shows at The Factory, a downtown club, died in the crash. One band member survived the crash; another who had flown by commercial plane was not involved. The event has become another somber moment in Wisconsin music history, right up there with Stevie Ray Vaughn’s death in a1990 helicopter crash at Alpine Valley near East Troy.


What’s most amazing, looking back, is how young Redding was at the time of his death – just 26 - and how big a musical figure he became after it. His biggest-selling pop song, “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay,” recorded just three days earlier, reached number one on both pop and R&B charts, and his label had a string of other posthumous hits. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1989.

Naturally, I don’t remember what I was doing the night he was inducted. But on the sad note of this anniversary let’s at least enjoy this You Tube video of Otis and “The Happy Song (Dum, Dum).”

Dennis McCann: John Heisman's own trophy is a simple cemetery stone

Originally published Dec. 8, 2008

There may be more bowls in college football than in a bowery soup kitchen, but we now know who will be playing who, where and when during the Christmas and New Year’s college football orgy. Thankfully, the Rose Bowl will again feature the Big Ten vs. the Pac-10, the way God meant it to be, instead of some untraditional interloper like Texas, and Wisconsin will head to Florida once again to take on the second oldest coach in college football in Bobby Bowden’s Florida State. The only unanswered question in college football, then, is who will win the Heisman Trophy.

And, might this year’s winner finally be the one to make it to quiet Forest Home Cemetery in Rhinelander, where the remains of John Heisman himself, the man who gave his name to the iconic trophy, have been buried for more than 70 years? Yes, the man so closely associated with the New York Athletic Club and the nascent days of a game he likely would not recognize today rests in a northern Wisconsin cemetery under a simple flush-to-the-ground marker, so unostentatious I had to have help to find it when I stopped earlier this fall.

“I wonder how many people,” said Marv Schumacher as he led me to the grave, “know he’s got a simple gravestone in Rhinelander, Wis? This famous man and just a ground-level stone.”

Some do know, of course, because Heisman’s Rhinelander burial comes up some years about award time, and it got a lot of attention the year Wisconsin running back Ron “The Great” Dane won the trophy. It’s “kind of a novelty” story, said Dick Winquist, who was sexton at the cemetery for 32 years and knows the story about as well as anyone. Each year a few football fans in the know seek out the grave to show their kids or take photos, he said.

“My dad was there for 20 years before me and he used to say that’s our one claim to fame,” he said.

It’s not a bad claim. Heisman, who was born two weeks before the first American football game was played between Princeton and Rutgers in 1869, is widely viewed as a pioneering coach in college football. As the New York Times wrote two years ago, “Without John Heisman there might not be a forward pass in football, and without a forward pass the game would probably have died from disinterest or been abolished because of its fatal brutality.” In addition to pushing to have the forward pass made legal, Heisman pushed to have the game divided into four quarters and created the center snap. He introduced the “hike” vocal signal and was a creative play designer.

Heisman was said to have introduced the ball to his players and, after a pause, add, “Better to have died as a small boy than to fumble this football.”

Heisman was in New York at the time of is death but was buried in Rhinelander, the hometown of his second wife, Edith. Winquist said to his knowledge no trophy winner has ever come to visit.

One curious story occurred in the 1980s when a visitor who was never identified glued a jar to the stone. In the jar, for some inexplicable reason, were four tickets to a Minnesota Gophers football game. Winquist still has them. Heisman, after all, is his claim to fame.

Dennis McCann: A toast to the end of the days of no toasts

Originally published Dec. 4, 2008

When we talk about the late-year holidays Thanksgiving and Christmas come first to mind, and maybe some would throw in Pearl Harbor Day. But hey, speaking of getting bombed, there is another holiday, which, until I saw an ad in one newspaper this week, had somehow escaped me entirely.

It turns out that Dec. 5 is celebrated by some as Repeal Day (http://www.repealday.org/), the anniversary of the official end of that failed experiment known as Prohibition. It was on Dec. 5, 1933, that Utah ratified the 21st amendment, giving the country a three quarters majority of states in favor of restoring America’s right to drink.

And on that night, did America ever drink. Of course, it had a 13-year thirst going, not counting all the illegal hooch and homemade gin that had been produced in back-hills stills and home bathtubs. There were lots of places in Wisconsin where Prohibition had been but a speed bump on the way to a good hangover – are you listening, Hurley? – but even so it was good news that the state’s iconic brewing industry could once again operate above ground. By some accounts that meant thousands of brewery workers were affected by the repeal.

For obvious reasons Prohibition was tough on what was one of the state’s largest industries. Between 1920, when the 18th amendment to the Constitution turned the land legally dry, and the 1933 repeal, it was illegal to manufacture or sell any beverage with more than 0.5 percent alcohol. For true beer lovers that amounts to a thin drink that might as well be called Why Bother Lager. And for a city like Milwaukee, known worldwide for such names and products as Schlitz, Pabst, Blatz, Miller and more, Prohibition meant more unemployment as much as it did less enjoyment.

It was the same statewide at smaller breweries, as many as 400 in all. Some, like Gray’s Brewing Co. in my hometown of Janesville, turned to making soda pop; I grew up drinking Gray’s soda and didn’t make the connection to beer until much later. Gray’s only recently turned to making craft beers again, and they do a nice job of it. Still, the ban on brewing lasted long enough that for many brewers it was too late to go back into business when Prohibition ended. Fewer than half of the pre-1920s breweries resumed production, and even that number dwindled through the years until the trend toward micro brewing brought a resurgence in small breweries in the past decade or so.

So, I guess the point is that it’s time for your last-minute Repeal Day shopping. As backers of the holiday point out, “There are no outfits to buy, costumes to rent, rivers to dye green. Simply celebrate the day by stopping by your local bar, tavern, saloon, winery, distillery or brew house and having a drink…Just do it because you can.”

Heck, the constitution demands it. As my people would say, Slainte!

Dennis McCann: In which I tell the iPod people to go take a hike

Originally published Dec. 2, 2008

If we needed any further evidence the world is going to hell in a handcart – and we don’t, of course, but it keeps on coming – check out the story in many weekend newspapers about the decline in visits to America’s national forests. (And yes, I know that makes me sound like an old fogey.)

Oh, that’s right, nobody reads newspapers anymore. (So does that.) To summarize then, top officials at the US Forest Service were quoted in the Associated Press story as saying that over the past few years visits to national forests are off 13%, which is sad enough. What’s more depressing are the reasons cited – high gas prices (at least that one is understandable), the popularity of video games and the Internet, an increasingly urban and aging population less likely to camp out, more fees for trail use, “a proliferation of noisy off-road vehicles” and the declining budget for forest recreation.

The Forest Service’s interest here is a bit self-serving, of course. By raising the issue of fewer recreation dollars they are hoping to raise support for more spending on national forests, not a bad thing by the way given how else the government spends our hard-earned dollars. But the story raised other important issues for the future: if the number of park users is declining now, what will happen to national forests in the future? In an effort to attract users will forests amend their mission? Or, as one forest researcher put it, “Is it going to be a future of hiking, or is it fancy cafes and city kinds of things? That’s what we’re trying to evaluate right now. And the information is mixed, frankly.”

Wisconsin has a stake here because of our two wonderful national forests, Chequamegon National Forest in northwestern Wisconsin and Nicolet National Forest in the northeastern corner. But the question likely applies as well to the state park system in many ways, as popular and stuffed with campers as the most popular parks are each summer weekend.

Some years ago on a circle tour of Lake Superior, my wife and I stopped in Michigan’s Tahquamenon State Park to see its iconic waterfall, and was surprised to hear a woman in the parking lot tell her waterfall-weary husband he could wait in the brew pub if he didn’t want to walk the short trail to the fall’s rim. Brew pub? Yup. It was as if Smokey the Bear had bred with the Hamm’s bear, and while I do admit to having enjoyed a tasty glass of beer after visiting the falls I would not want to see many parks citified that way.

Without going off all John Muir on you, the world needs places where city folks can go and not feel civilized. That doesn’t mean everyone should be compelled to take part in rustic camping or arduous backcountry hiking or rafting down dangerous rivers without a helmet. Leave that for the crazies, and just go take a walk in the woods. Maybe it’s better to say we all just need quiet places. In the latest issue of Wisconsin Natural Resources magazine, the publication of the state Department of Natural Resources, writer Roger Drayna told of his favorite places, not necessarily famous national parks but personal spaces – the woods beyond Pattison Falls near Superior, a certain flowage he loves or a rustic cabin in a Norway pine grove near the Michigan border. He also cited a favorite place of my own, the spot between Hurley and Ashland were the highway falls away and the first glimpse of Lake Superior’s shining Chequamegon Bay is revealed beyond the still impressive forest.

“It is one of the few places,” Drayna said, “I can sense wilderness without even raising a sweat.”
It isn’t hard to find such spots. Start with Wisconsin’s two national forests. It is a month too early for New Year’s resolutions but why not resolve here and now to get to one or both in 2009, in winter or summer. See St. Peter’s Dome in the Chequamegon National Forest near Mellen, which requires a bit of an uphill hike but rewards the effort with unparalleled views of Lake Superior. Or, for the less active, make it Morgan Falls in the same area, a 70-foot waterfall that promises to cool the hiker on a warm summer day. And those are just two possibilities out of many.

Sheesh. Wild spaces are facing competition from the Internet and video games. Here’s one more piece of advice and I’ll stop preaching. For Christmas, skip Circuit City and get your loved one a Wisconsin State Park season pass. It’s the people’s country club. Go enjoy it.

(Above, the view from St. Peter’s Dome, Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources photo by Linda Parker.)

Dennis McCann: Good thing he didn't say "Retreat, Wisconsin"

Originally published Nov. 28, 2008

I have admitted in the past a tendency to go off Cliff Clavin-like by trying to impress people with knowledge that leaves them, well, unimpressed. I mean, I can bring a dinner party to its knees by raising arcane points about Wisconsin history or quizzing others with questions like “Which of the following Wisconsin counties – Adams, Washington, Lincoln or Grant – was NOT named for an American president?* Toss that one into a conversation and the next question is hey, where is everybody going?

Still, it would be wrong to let this week pass on into the Christmas season without acknowledging its place in Wisconsin lore. It was this week in 1863 when Wisconsin won a slogan for the ages, and now the next time you hear “On, Wisconsin” you can impress your friends and neighbors with the story, as well.

“On, Wisconsin” was first uttered on a Civil War battlefield by a young – in fact, still a teenager – Union officer named Arthur McArthur Jr. During the battle for Missionary Ridge outside of Chattanooga, McArthur watched the Wisconsin flag bearer fall and immediately stepped into his place, hoisting the flag and urging his soldiers forward by yelling “On, Wisconsin. On, Wisconsin.”

Stirred by his call and his bravery, McArthur’s man rallied, which was a good thing for McArthur. Gen. Grant, watching the attack through field glasses, was said to have told an aide to promote McArthur if the attack succeeded – but to court martial him if it failed.

Of course, it did not fail, or University of Wisconsin athletic teams would have had a sorry excuse for a fight song. McArthur, who became known as “The Boy Colonel,” later was awarded the Medal of Honor for his exploits that day, and many years after that his son, Gen. Douglas MacArthur (the spelling changed somewhere along the way), also received a Medal of Honor for his service.

Anyway, that’s the story. I think it’s nice to have a state slogan born from heroism rather than one crafted by some marketing group, so on the 145th anniversary of its first use let’s all raise our voice in another “On, Wisconsin.”

* Oh, it’s Grant, which was named not for the general but, according to Robert Gard and L.G. Sorden’s “Romance of Wisconsin Place Names,” for “a famous trapper and Indian trader” who lived in a cabin along a river in the Wisconsin territory. Grant’s cooking utensil was a brass kettle that he wore under his cap on his head. One day, the account goes, he encountered a war party of Winnebago Indians. One brave struck Grant on his head with a tomahawk, “producing no other effect than a sharp ring from the kettle.”

Can’t wait to tell that one at the next party, can you?

Dennis McCann: Bucking the whitetail trend

Originally published Nov. 23, 2008

I went into town this morning for coffee and the Sunday papers and, while waiting for the barista to foam my latte just right, chatted with Dr. Bob, my neighbor from down the trail (and not to be confused with Artist Bob, Pool Bob, Park Bob or any of the other Bobs who haunt the place). Like me, Dr. Bob was wearing red but when he asked whether that meant I had walked into town I shook my head and said no. I might be wearing brighter red than Bucky Badger’s game-day briefs but during this one week each year I leave woodsy Wisconsin to others.

My Wisconsin Native bona fides are as respectable as those of anyone you’ll find but I must admit to having been born without the hunting gene. I don’t mind, and the hunting lands are probably safer places without me and a loaded gun taking up space. So most years I spend the nine- day deer season (also known as Exotic Dancer Full Employment Week) in cities with sidewalks and manicured lawns where any deer that do appear are viewed as pests and not targets. This year, though, circumstances required my presence in Bayfield so I found myself Friday on the road north with much of the Grand Army of the Whitetail, where I couldn’t help but make a few observations.

No one goes hunting in a Prius. Roads leading to the hunting grounds were filled with pick-em-up trucks, usually carrying a four-wheeler in the back and sometimes also pulling old trailers not much bigger than fishing shacks that would serve instead as hunting shacks. In case anyone could miss the obvious, a few trailers had antlers tacked to the back. On the radio a DNR spokesman was explaining how, for a mere $24 hunting license, a man could provide lots of venison for his family in these hard economic times, but he didn’t say anything about the $30,000 truck, the $5,000 four-wheeler and the $5 blaze orange stocking cap he’ll also need.

Not to mention the 30-can twelve-pack of Bud.

Hunters are not necessarily vain, but they do favor vanity plates. I saw a truck license that read HNDGUNR, and knew instantly the driver was a hunter. Same with R U HUNTN, and while the owner of the truck with the license plate FARVE might have spelling issues (though it did finally look right) I was reasonably certain he, too, was a deer hunter.

The car with STYLIST? Not so much.

Outside of Brantwood I noticed a sign for Venison Road, but there was not a tree stand in sight. I’m no Daniel Boone but shouldn’t that be a clue? (And speaking of clues, riddle me this: What’s up with blaze orange camouflage? Now you see me, now you don’t? Isn’t that right up there with jumbo shrimp on the oxymoron chart?)

What was most obvious was how important the gun deer season is to the northern economy, and there the Grand Army was doing its part. Cafes were packed, stores were busy and in several towns charities had set up brat stands to take advantage of the hungry horde. One of those was in Phillips, and I might have stopped myself if I hadn’t been struck dumb by the sight of a fisherman sitting way out in the middle of the lake, staring into a hole in the ice. I just shook my head. A week earlier he’d have needed a boat to do that.

It reminded me of a story. God was at the gates of heaven sorting out the newcomers by IQ. One man said his IQ was 130, so God said “Welcome, why don’t you take a seat with the rocket scientists over there.” The next new arrival said his IQ was 110, so God directed him to go sit with the teachers and reporters.

The next guy said his IQ was 60. God said, “Welcome. How’s the ice fishing been?”

I guess I lack the ice fishing gene as well.

Photo by Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources.

Dennis McCann: Please, honey, let me be a man of Stihl

Originally published Nov. 19, 2008

While I have always thought of myself as a knowledgeable and wordly guy, I’ve long been secretly embarrassed at being undereducated. Credit-wise, I mean, and we can probably forget the “secretly” part now that I’ve shared my shame on the world wide Internet. While many of my friends and former colleagues have advanced degrees or law degrees or medical degrees of every sort, I left the University of Wisconsin-Madison with exactly 120 degrees on the head, not one more than the bare minimum for entering the workaday world with a college degree. And while I often thought I should do something about that I never found the right opportunity.

Well, pull my cord and call me Chipper because now I have. I was going into Hayward the other day and passed by the campus of the Wisconsin School of Chainsaw Carving – “the only state licensed chainsaw carving school in the United States.”

Is this a great country, or what? Who knew there was a school offering “in-depth chainsaw carving training to the career oriented student.” As adrift as I am employment-wise these days, a new career turning tree stumps into fierce little black bears sounds pretty good.

It turns out the school has been around for a few years. The school (http://www.chainsawcarvingschool.com/) was started by a former taxidermist-turned-chainsaw artist and offers weeklong classes several times a year. Instead of a couple of No. 2 pencils and a box of crayons students are required to show up with a chainsaw or two, steel-toed boots, chainsaw protective shirt, leg chaps, gloves, goggles and helmet – not to mention your own gas and oil and $1,850 for tuition – but nobody said education comes cheap. If I can only convince my wife to let me have an actual chainsaw I can get to work on the prerequisite 20 carved mushrooms, a photo of which must be included with each application.

That could take a lot of convincing, though. Whenever I bring up my need for a chainsaw – and I am one who lives in the woods, by the way – I always end up feeling like poor little Ralphie in “A Christmas Story.” As Ralphie’s mother feared he would shoot his eye out with a Red Ryder BB gun, my wife contends I would cut my leg, or worse, off with a chainsaw. When I say “not bloody likely,” she only hears the “likely bloody.” And she doesn’t care if I’m the laughingstock of the local tavern.

But man, look at that course schedule. After the safety instruction (See, honey?) the class gets right to work on an eagle bust design and layout, then carving an eagle out of soft material and by the end of Day 1 each student has chainsaw carved an actual eagle. By Day 2 it’s on to carving the eagle’s eye, lip, beak and feathers and, in the afternoon, chainsaw carving a standing bear.

And who would dare play hooky on Day 3 when we get to make a death mask of either a carved or frozen bear.

The day I stopped to take a photo of one of the carved bears along the highway – that’s a salmon it’s holding up, of course – I could see a group of carvers in one of the outdoor carving booths and hear the manly whine of saws turning chunks of wood into high art. It was music to my ears. I tell you, I love the sound of a Husqvarna in the morning.

Dennis McCann: The myth, the legend, the Hodag -- is alive!

Originally published Nov. 14, 2008

I was in Rhinelander the other day and so naturally stopped to capture a photo of the Hodag outside the Chamber of Commerce headquarters. Sure, capturing a photo of a Hodag is not nearly so good as capturing one live but lacking a Hodag license I was left to shoot only photos.

The Hodag is to Rhinelander as the showgirl is to Vegas. The elusive creature, first captured and presented to the world by noted Northwoods huckster Eugene Shepard in 1896, is Rhinelander’s pride and joy, its school mascot, even its alter ego. (Now that I think of it I'm not sure any Nevada high school uses showgirls as mascots but then we are talking Vegas, after all, so maybe.) The Hodag was a ferocious beast that was said to grow out of the ashes of a cremated lumber ox (lumber oxen had to be cremated, of course, to rid their souls of the profanity directed their way by impatient lumberjacks). Hodags were reported to be large, mean, horned, fanged, green-eyed and smelled like a combination of buzzard meat and skunk perfume.

So naturally it was a big hit with the locals when Shepard, at the behest of Oneida County fair officials, “captured” a live Hodag and put it on display. The creature was put in a dark cage in dim light and long lines of (also dim) fair-goers paid good money to see it and hear Shepard describe the capture. The Hodag proved so popular that Shepard took it on the road later, and out-of-towners would show up at his house hoping for a glimpse, apparently never noticing his sons making Hodag-like grunts and growls in the shadows. Some people just need to be tricked.

I knew all of that, and thought of it as ancient history. What I didn’t know until I returned home was that some today believe the Hodag lives (see “some people just need to be tricked,” above) and have put up a Web site (http://www.hodagsightings.com/) to perpetuate the myth, er, story. The site is “dedicated to the search for the wily Hodag,” and includes monthly updates of sightings (some in most watchable video), including a man who had a recent run-in with one. "In the ditch," he said, "I heard grunting. It sounded like somebody who easts potatoes trying to get into an old pair of Levi's. But it wasn't, it was another Hodag that I thought was giving birth..." There are also kid activities, contests and Hodag “facts,” which the site’s operators are at least honest enough to put in quotes.

Some facts: “Brett Favre can throw a football over 50 yards. A Hodag can throw Brett even further.”

“Hodags are the masters of no less than five (5) languages, most of them fake.”

“The elusive Rhinelander Hodag is fond of WI deer season due to its lack of a suitably drunk harmonica-loving crowd throughout the rest of the year.”

“Hodags are the most deadly creatures in the world, except for Chuck Norris.”

And, finally, “Hodags do not like politicians, lawyers or assessors and use their horns on these unwanted persons the most.”

Well, at least they're not all bad.

Dennis McCann: Celebrating the plowboys with sax tunes and pickles

Originally published Nov. 11, 2008

Everybody talks about the weather but, well, everybody talks about it.

I had to laugh yesterday when I read the latest forecast from the National Weather Service, which has concluded that this winter will “almost certainly” be less snowy than last year’s. First off, any forecast with an “almost certainly” in it comes with a built-in excuse. And since last year’s 101.4 inches of snow set a record for Madison and Milwaukee’s 99.1 inches was similarly twice the yearly average, even I could have predicted this year will “probably” be less snowy.

More weather talk. In the same paper I saw that Gov. Jim Doyle has declared Wednesday as “Snowplow Driver Appreciation Day,” which as holidays go at least has the virtue of not eliminating mail delivery and closing the courthouse. Sorry, though. I’m not attending the snowplow driver appreciation parade, not after remembering how the streets in Madison were allowed to rut early and rut often last year. Don’t take it personally, plowboys. I didn’t celebrate Saxophone Day on Nov. 6 and won’t be joining the International Pickle Day (it’s true, and you can look it up) festivities on Nov. 14, either. Here’s the deal: keep the streets clean this year and I’ll appreciate you in the spring.

Besides, we’re all weather wimps these days. I’ve been reading a collection of history columns about early Bayfield written in the 1950s by a local newspaperwoman named Eleanor Knight, who devoted one chapter to the diaries of one Mrs. Andrew Tate. You want real winter? Here are some excerpts from Mrs. Tate’s winter of 1876.

March 16 – “A terrible northeaster. Snow blowing and drifting…kitchen and dining room windows entirely hidden by a huge drift. Did my work by candle light.”

March 18 – “Never saw such immense drifts as are everywhere in town.”

April 20 – “Ice very poor. A team was drowned this afternoon.”

May 7 – “Found upon waking this morning a cheerless northeast rainstorm…the ‘Mary Groch’ left the dock to assist the ‘Mary Ann’ which was being carried away with the ice.”

May 16 – “A gloomy, cheerless day. Bay full of heavy lake ice.”

May 18 – “Tug attempted to go to Ashland. Was prevented by ice.” Two days later, “The ‘Groch’ came in. Reported seven boats between here and Duluth locked in the ice.”

May 28- “…this afternoon as we came from Sabbath School the wind changed and the thermometer fell 26 degrees in 15 minutes.”

You get the idea. On June 2 – yes, June! - a tug attempted to go to Ashland but was turned back by ice. More ice formed around the dock on June 4, and three days later Mrs. Tate wrote, “It is so discouraging…Gardens are suffering from the cold. Bay FULL of icebergs and more coming. Almost sick with a headache.” Eventually that summer did come, but by October Mrs. Tate was again lamenting foul weather, and a year later when a cold winter again refused to yield, even in May, poor Mrs. Tate said, “No wonder people commit suicide in London on account of gloomy weather.”

Elsewhere in the book was a description of the year of the Big Snow, when snow began falling on a Wednesday and didn’t allow crews to start clearing the streets until Sunday. Mayor Wachsmuth dispatched the big snow scraper, the account said. “Two teams in trio and four in pairs, a total of fourteen horses, were required to drag the plow. The same performance was repeated Saturday.”

So, that’s real winter. I wonder if anyone ever held an appreciation day for those poor horses.

Dennis McCann: Remembering the gales of November

Originally published Nov. 7, 2008

The weak morning light coming across Lake Superior this morning revealed a November day that looked exactly as it should. It was dark and gloomy, the gray-white sky was spitting rain and the lake’s surface rocked and rolled, but only enough to permit the day to be thought stormy. The Gales of November, if they are coming, will have to wait.

But this would have been the day, if the Gales had a sense of history. Today is the anniversary of the first day of one of the worst storms ever to hit Lake Superior and, its great cousin, Lake Huron. On Nov. 7, 1913, a fierce storm roared up that would not go quiet until Nov. 11, four long days in which perhaps hundreds of sailors died, some 20 ships sank or ran aground and millions of dollars in shipping losses were recorded.

November has famously produced stormy weather on the Great Lakes – the anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, on Nov. 10, 1975, is just days away as well, and more on that in a moment – but the storm of 1913 was one for the record books. Some call it the “Freshwater Fury,” and a report on the storm by the Lake Carriers Association later concluded, “No lake master (ship’s captain) can recall in all his experience a storm of such unprecedented violence with such rapid changes in the direction of the wind and its gusts of such fearful speed.”

During those four ferocious days ships were sunk or left battered against islands or other shores. When the storm finally abated on Nov. 11 the only job left was to count the sunken vessels, estimate the number of casualties and assess the material losses. Newspapers of that day were filled with bulletins: “The storm today was sweeping up the St. Lawrence, leaving wrecks of vessels, docks and boathouses in the lake region,” said one report, while another noted, “An unknown 600 foot steel freighter turned turtle several miles north of Port Huron and her entire crew is believed lost.”

“Persons aboard the unknown vessel which yesterday was reported on the rocks near Gull Rock lighthouse on Manitou Island, Lake Superior, pounding badly and in danger of breaking up, are believed to be doomed to death.” Several of the crew were reported to be lashed to the rigging, likely already dead.

But no one would write a famous dirge about that storm, so the sinking of the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald will forever reign as the best known, and yet some say most mysterious, shipwreck tale on the Great Lakes. Named for the head of a Milwaukee insurance company, the Fitz departed from Superior, Wisconsin, on her last trip on Nov. 9 that year with a cargo of 26,116 tons of taconite pellets bound for Detroit. But the lake had other plans, and the Fitz and her escort, the Arthur Anderson, met heavy weather on Nov. 10 off Whitefish Bay, Michigan. For reasons that are still studied and debated, Capt. Ernest McSorley indicated by radio that his ship was taking on water. She had lost her radar and severe damage had occurred in what McSorley described as the worst storm he had ever seen. And the last. He and his crew of 28 all went down with the ship. The Gales of November conference of maritime scholars and fans remembers the event and reports the latest findings of ongoing research each year in Duluth.

The Fitzgerald’s 200-pound bronze bell was later recovered from the wreckage and is now on display as a memorial to the crew at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Paradise, Mich. If you are like me you have to like the irony of shipwrecks being remembered in Paradise. I was there a few years ago on one of the anniversaries of the sinking, and would suggest the museum (http://www.shipwreckmuseum.com/) is well worth seeing if the lake and its notorious past are of interest.

Just good luck getting that darn song out of your head if you go.

Dennis McCann: Sometimes history towers just overhead

Originally published Nov. 4, 2008

One of the more memorable stories I covered in my newspaper days was a forest fire in northern Wisconsin. Well, not really a fire, given that the flames were out before I could get from south to north with pad and pen in hand, so in order to salvage the assignment I decided to interview a forest fire observer, which was a perfect plan until it occurred to me I would have to climb his tower to see him.

It was beyond nervous-making. When I arrived at the tower I realized it would be a 100-foot climb, hand over hand up a 10-story ladder with no safety wrap-around. Lord, it was frightening. The first time I cleared the treetops and felt the wind in my face I chickened out and went right back down to terra firma and hollered up, asking my interviewee what time he would be done. But he would have none of that. He finally talked me up, reminding me over and over to look straight out, not up or down, and keep climbing. Somehow, I made it, and after about 15 minutes my knees stopped shaking enough to enjoy the experience. Of course, then I had to get back over the hold in the floor of his shack, get back on the ladder and return to earth. It’s hard to say whether up or down was worse, but I lived to tell the tale.

Maybe that’s why I notice when fire towers made news. And when the latest newsletter of the Wisconsin Historical Society arrived the other day there was a tower in the news – the Mountain Fire Lookout Tower in Oconto County has just been added to the National Register of Historic Places. In my case that was historic in a personal way. I climbed that one, too, on another story some years back, and if you would be so inclined you can, too. The Mountain Fire Lookout Tower, located a few miles outside of the little community of Mountain, has been rehabilitated as an interpretive site and open to the public.

The Mountain Fire Lookout Tower, one of two remaining towers of the 19 that once served the Nicolet National Forest, is not as scary a climb as the one I described above. For starters, there are stairs from bottom to top, so there are handrails for comfort and security, but be forewarned that anyone who is altitude-averse won’t have an easy climb of it. The reward, though, is standing about 10 stories over a magnificent forest and looking out for miles of northern Wisconsin landscape. Surely that’s worth a little knee-knocking.

The Mountain fire tower was used from 1935 until the last fire was called in on April 25, 1970. Fire watching now is mostly an aerial pursuit, but it’s good a few original towers are being preserved to remind us of what those days were like. The tower was originally located a few miles from where it stands today; it was moved by a crew of Civilian Conservation Corps workers in 1935. Corps enrollees also fought fires, manned the tower and did other construction projects in the forest, which adds yet another layer to its historic importance.

Wait, though. Did I say manned? In fairness it should be noted that not every fire observer who manned a tower was in fact a man. Two years ago I wrote yet another newspaper story about the Fifield Fire Tower, in the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest (that’s the one pictured above), which was also being added to the National Register. As part of the research for the nomination park officials collected the remembrances of former fire observers, including brother and sister Manny Stein and Betty Murnik, who served at three locations during their years of service, including the tower near Fifield. I couldn’t help remember my own shaky climb when I read Betty’s account of one fall day:

“It was cold – there as no way of heating up there – some of those windows opened, so when it got cold and the wind was blowing, it came in. And the geese – there was rain mixed with snow one day, and the geese were flying between me and the ground. “

I liked Manny’s description of working during lightning storms, too, sitting on a stool with glass insulators on the bottom: “There would be a big bang – just like a canon going off. Then when it hit, you’d think, ‘What am I doing in this job? I don’t need to be in this job.

“Oh my, that was scary.”

I can only imagine. These days I’m happy keeping the geese overhead.

Dennis McCann: And in the category of Best State Park with a view of a crooked river...

Originally published Oct. 27, 2008

Maybe I had my eye on the wrong election, because this one slipped right by me like a ghost in the night. I didn’t even know it was time to vote before the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources announced state park users’ ratings of their favorites parks as part of the Gold Seal Awards program, conducted in cooperation with the Friends of Wisconsin State Parks.

The awards were presented in a variety of categories, including Best Groomed Ski Trail (Kettle Moraine State Forest, Lapham Peak Unit), Best Picnic Area (Devil’s Lake State Park), Best View of a Waterfall (Copper Falls State Park), Best Mountain Bike Trail (Blue Mound State Park), and so on. In something of a surprise, given that it is one of the state’s smallest state parks, New Glarus Woods State Park won awards for Best View of Moonrise, Best Playground and Best Prairie. Also likely for best ballot stuffing by park advocates, but that was not part of the announcement.

I don’t have a problem with most of those. Copper Falls is one of the most beautiful state parks, with trails that offer dramatic waterfall viewing, and while I can remember but one picnic at Devil’s Lake State Park it was a very good time. I’ve never seen the moon rise at New Glarus State Park but trust that it is quite lovely.

But, as one who has visited all but a small handful of state parks, many of them on multiple occasions, I could offer a few other award-caliber recommendations of my own. And why not? I’m a friend of state parks, too. So as they used to say on the Academy Awards show, may I have the envelopes, please?

Best park beach that will make you think you are in Jamaica: Big Bay State Park, Madeline Island. OK, not today, because we had snow on the shore of Lake Superior this morning, but on a warm summer day you can walk great distances on the barrier beach at Big Bay and swear you are in the Caribbean instead of on a northern great lake. Take a swim, paddle a kayak or just sit on the sand and ponder the meaning of life.

Best park with a view of history: Wyalusing State Park, on the Mississippi River. Stand on the bluff overlooking the meeting of our own Wisconsin River and the Mighty Mississippi and imagine what it must have been like when Marquette and Joliet paddled their canoe past that very spot on their first exploration of that part of the new land. It’s a humbling experience. But don’t stop there. In a bi-partisan recognition that not everything cool is in Wisconsin, cross the bridge at Prairie du Chien and, on the Iowa side, go a few miles south of McGregor to Pike’s Peak State Park (named for the same Zebulon Pike whose better known peak is in the west) and take in the same view from the opposite side. Look up river, look down river, look back through hundreds of years.

Best State Park Most Wisconsinites Don’t Know: Interstate State Park, which despite its name is not a super highway. In fact, Interstate was Wisconsin’s first state park, established near St. Croix Falls more than a century ago, but there is more there than just that distinction. The rock formations there are as old as any you’ll come across, which makes hiking the pot-holed trails along the St. Croix River a true pleasure. Time and the elements have carved rock formations like the Old Man of the Dalles, Elephant’s Head, the Maltese Cross and others, many visible from land as well as from boat tours on the river. Minnesota’s own Interstate State Park is just across the river, so you can get a two-fer if you plan properly.

Best State Park with a view of the World’s Crookedest River: Wildcat Mountain State Park in Ontario. Of course it is not really a mountain, but this park’s elevations offer unsurpassed views of the Kickapoo River and the driftless area of southwestern Wisconsin. As a bonus, the drives in that area pass through some wonderfully laid back places, including a large Amish community at Cashton and a host of small towns content to be just that.

At any rate, that’s my ballot. I hope next year to get it in before they announce the results.

For a full look at this year’s winners, see http://www.dnr.wi.gov/news/DNRNews_Article_Lookup.asp?id=533. Photo of Big Bay State Park by Dave Miess used courtesy of Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources.

Dennis McCann: Pausing in Cable for a bit of (natural) history

Originally published Oct. 17, 2008

Hell-bent is never the right way to drive so on my way home from a bit of book research recently I stopped in Cable to check on, appropriately enough, Forest Lodge Library, one of my favorites in all of Wisconsin. Added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2002, it looks like a library should in the north woods. It is a hand-hewn log building that dates to 1925, with a fieldstone fireplace, wood floors and shelves stuffed with books, a gift to the community by onetime summer resident Mary Livingston Griggs. Wabeno, in Forest County, also has a wonderful log library, and long may they serve readers in their quaint, old-fashioned way.

What drew my attention, though, was the gleaming new building adjacent to the library, the newly opened Cable Natural History Museum, a larger, greener and more up to date structure than the museum’s original quarters. The first museum, built in 1967, was essentially an add-on to the log library and was connected by a glass walkway, and while it served the small community’s needs fine for many years it eventually became too small and insufficient for program and exhibit needs, which led to the construction of the $1.8 million facility that opened late this summer, which was coincidentally the museum’s 40th birthday.

As birthday presents go, it is a beauty, and naturalist Cully Shelton was more than happy to show it of. The new one-story museum was designed to appear to rise up out of the earth and has a green roof that is meant to look like a tree canopy. It has more exhibit space, expanded classrooms and offices, a gift and book shop and employs the latest in energy-efficient components. I spent a while taking in the inaugural exhibit, “Paradise Lost? Climate Change in the Northwoods,” which features the work of several dozen artists who reflect on what a changing environment could mean for northern ecosystems. I was happy to see the work of a number of friends in the exhibit, including poems by John Bates and weavings by Mary Burns, photos by Jeff Richter and a nice piece of acrylic on wood by Howard Paap.

The museum (http://www.cablemuseum.org/), on the curve in downtown Cable, is open year-round from Tuesday-Saturday and is an especially good stop for families with kids because of wildlife displays, workshops and summer programs. And note that a few miles away is the very nice Forest Lodge Nature Trail, maintained by the museum and open to the public. I found the trail by accident many years ago and would have gone back to hike it again if time had permitted, but it did not. I headed for home, not hell-bent, of course, and not even in a hurry. If you should get to Cable, check out the old and the new. There’s something almost time-bending about checking your e-mail from a log cabin library.

Dennis McCann: All the moose fit to print -- and photograph

Originally published Oct. 13, 2008

I know that I can go to the guess-what-I-just-saw well only so often, even living in what seems to be this north woods wildlife park, and under normal circumstances I’d let last week’s bobcat sighting speak for itself. But I can’t help myself, because that same post referred to the unusual sighting of a young bull moose in Ashland – and, even as I write this, that very same moose is bedded down on a rainy hillside JUST DOWN THE ROAD FROM MY HOUSE.

Sorry to shout like that, but a moose on the loose would goose anyone’s excitement meter.

As I noted last week, moose sightings are pretty rare in Wisconsin, though a few are reported every year. This was my first, and to find it within walking distance of our house was a thrill. I was coming back from running a few errands when a man walking in the light rain on our road hailed me and asked if I had seen the moose. Moose? I believe I answered. Yes, he said, just down here, so off we went to see if it was still there. And sure enough, there on the rainy hillside was the moose, lying down in the brush but with its big head and shoulders and antlers easily in view.

As was the case with my bobcat encounter I did not have a camera (maybe I need to revisit that policy) so I went home and got my wife and for the next 45 minutes or so watched the moose walk a bit and then hunker down again. She got a few photos, despite questioning the advisability of approaching a maybe 1,000-pound bull moose who might not be in the best frame of mind, given that it is the rut. But the moose cooperated just enough to get digital evidence of his presence here so no one can say we made it up.

When I say it is the very same moose spotted in Ashland last week I am, of course, only speculating. But it is clearly a young bull, given the antler growth, and there aren’t many of them around so it is at least a very good supposition. The question, though, is without a young moose cow to give him company on these cool fall nights, will be take home a favorable impression of his first Bayfield visit? I hope so, and hope that his journey to wherever comes next is a safe one.

This morning we had, as we usually do this time of year, an eagle in the tall white pine on the lake side of our house and, as I left to show my wife the moose, a pileated woodpecker landed on a tree in front. I won’t burden you with separate reports on those, though. Besides, it will take something pretty special to top young Bullwinkle.

Dennis McCann: Cue the Fat Lady -- It's curtain time again in Mineral Point

Originally published Oct. 12, 2008

Perhaps instead of “fat lady” I should have used “anorexically deficient” or some other silly euphemism but the fact is we are talking opera here, or at least opera houses, and double-sized divas come with that territory.

This matter, of course, grows out of recent word that major donations will allow for first-class restoration of the Mineral Point Opera House, which those of us who enjoy a little history with our modern entertainment can only applaud as right on key.

Mineral Point’s Opera House is just one of that much preserved city’s many historic buildings, but it’s among the most important. It is actually part of the city’s Municipal Building, said to be one of the last multi-purpose buildings in Wisconsin, and occupies a prominent place on the city’s hilly Main Street. Built in 1915 by Madison architects Claud and Stark (who also designed Madison’s iconic Orpheum Theatre), the Mineral Point Municipal Theatre and Opera House, as it was originally known, attracted some of the country’s best known touring vaudeville and performing arts stars.

The theater was part of a Wisconsin circuit that included the beautiful Pabst in Milwaukee, the Grand Opera House in Oshkosh, the Al Ringling in Baraboo and the recently restored Mabel Tainter Memorial Theatre in Menomonie, a true jewel box of a space.

When I caught a high school band performance in the Mineral Point Theatre more than a decade ago (our nephew’s trumpet was without doubt the show’s high point) its glory days were obviously in the past, but it was still a treat to sit in a grand old theater and imagine those earlier times. Too many communities can only claim memories of such facilities that have long since fallen to the wrecking ball, fire or neglect. But Mineral Point, along with a handful of other state communities, held onto its theater, using it for movies, live performances, meetings and other purposes.

So the news of impending restoration is most welcome. The Jeffris Family Foundation of Janesville awarded a major grant toward a $2.25 million restoration of the opera house “to its original magnificence,” according to the announcement. The first phase of the grant is $500,000, matching similar grants from both the city of Mineral Point and an anonymous donor that will allow work to begin immediately. Second and third phases will follow as additional funds are raised.

With Shake Rag Alley, the Pendarvis state historic site and a community filled with restored lead mine-era buildings and dozens of artist studios and galleries - not to mention restaurants that serve authentic pasties - Mineral Point is already a steady tourist draw. But backers of the opera house restoration say the historic space would enhance what is already attractive about the community while offering additional space for new classes, artistic endeavors and other visitor-friendly efforts. The building will be used for community performances, film festivals, touring acts and a repertory theater. Restoration, expected to begin in April, could be completed by fall 2010.

If the restoration follows the style of other Jeffris-backed projects, including Mineral Point’s Orchard Lawn, the historic Joseph Gundry House, St. Autustine Church in New Diggings and Villa Louis in Prairie du Chien, Mineral Point will have a beautiful piece of its past given new shine. I’d say that’s something to sing about.

Dennis McCann: When the fires of hell burned through Wisconsin

Originally published Oct. 7, 2008

Wednesday, Oct. 8, will be remembered in Chicago – if it is indeed remembered at all in the meltdown of not just one but two professional baseball teams – as the anniversary of the Great Chicago Fire, a conflagration of such a scale the whole world learned of the flames that leveled much of the city.

But we in Wisconsin know that Oct. 8 is also the anniversary of an even greater tragedy, the firestorm at little Peshtigo in Marinette County, an event that even today is considered by many the worst fire in American history. Forget the legend of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow. The disaster in Dairyland, whether the whole world knows or not, was far worse.

It’s hard to imagine today what it must have been like that autumn in 1871, when stubborn drought that began in June reduced the northern timberland by October to thousands of acres of kindling and slash awaiting only a match. Today we would have "no burn" orders in place, but oddly enough those dry conditions in 1871 actually persuaded many residents to light small fires in an effort to clear stumpy cutover land for farm use. Such debris fires were left to burn unchecked, so residents became used to the sight of red glowing on distant hillsides, apparently not understanding they were a deadly danger that would not be extinguished. When, on Oct. 8, strong, hot winds blew through there was concern at first but not yet panic – at least not until fires began to burn together and grow larger, picking up speed and force as winds increased.

By then it was too late. The fire – some later called it a tornado of fire, a holocaust of flame – raced through the north woods. Fire wheels jumped from tree top to tree top, smoke rose in mass clouds that denied vision and entire forests were claimed by flames in minutes. The sound was said to have resembled artillery fire. Houses and farm buildings disappeared, and people with them. Panic resulted, of course, and fleeing farmers and their families often found themselves trapped by balls of flame that rolled over them and burned them on the spot. Many others, people and cattle, took refuge in the river, the only place fire could not burn. By the time the fires had burned out, more than one million acres had burned across northern Wisconsin and Michigan, an estimated 1,500 people had died and even some survivors were left to view themselves as victims of the Peshtigo fire.

A few months ago I stopped at the Peshtigo Fire Museum, next to a cemetery where some victims were buried. The dead include an estimated 350 people in a mass grave, many who had been burned to completely they were never identified. (The attached photo shows a marker at the mass grave that was put up in 1981 as a remembrance.) But as sobering is it is, the mass grave does not reveal the horrors of that day as do the personal stories told on interpretive markers sprinkled through the cemetery.

Take the sad story of Terrance Kelly, his wife and four children who lived in an area called the Upper Sugar Bush. When fire came, the family was separated in the smoke and wind. Terrance had a child in his arms, his wife held another and the other two clung to each other. The next day, Terrance and his child were found dead nearly a mile from the farm, while all the others lived. The farm was gone. Terrance and Terresa, age 2 years and 2 months, are buried together.
Could the rest of the family truly be called survivors? Or could the 19-year-old Mellen man who walked his two younger siblings into the icy river to escape the hellacious flames, ducking their heads repeatedly to escape the fierce heat? Yes, he lived, but when he brought his siblings to shore both had died of hypothermia. And what to make of Charles Lemke, who attempted to take his family from the Lower Sugar Bush to his brother-in-law's house a mile away. Perhaps because he hooked the wagon so fast he needed to get down from his seat at one point and fix a hitch, just as a wave of fire washed over his family. Lemke was badly injured but managed to save himself in a small creek. But saved for what - to remember?

The stories go on, each as tragic as the last. One family grave is marked with a stone that reads simply, “All Lost In the Calamity.”

It is not an anniversary to be celebrated, but it is a hard one to forget. If you get to northeastern Wisconsin the museum, and cemetery, are highly recommended.

Dennis McCann: Bayfield is an apple city to its very core

Originally published Oct. 3, 2008

Autumn’s vibrant colors are everywhere in evidence in northern Wisconsin, the oranges and gold especially vivid when viewed against the brilliant blue of October skies. But the only color that matters this weekend is red, the color of apples. It is Apple Festival weekend in Bayfield, the biggest and busiest weekend of the year, and apple red rules.

Apple Festival is the one weekend a year when tiny Bayfield, pop. 650 or so depending on who is at home or away visiting the kids, becomes something else entirely. What that something else is can be different things for different people. For some of us, the change from quiet little tourist town to a bustling destination for tens of thousands of weekend visitors can be disconcerting. I had to park blocks from the coffee shop this morning, not just across the street as usual, and then wait in line for 20 minutes for the overburdened barista – yes, even Bayfield has baristas, with tattoos and piercings to boot – to produce my latte. Oh, how I suffer for my art.

But such is the social contract when you live in a tourist town that any personal caffeine crisis must take back seat to the business people who depend on Apple Festival crowds to make their season, one that seems to get shorter every year. The tourist season now begins on the 4th of July, burns white hot through August and into September weekends and finally explodes this first weekend of October. After that, park anywhere you wish. The coffee shop and restaurants, the gift shops, the charter sailboats and fishing boats and cruise boats must make their nut this weekend, because after Monday morning’s hangover the free-spending crowds will be distant memories.

And for all the congestion and lines and annoyances (many in the visiting horde are from Minnesota’s Twin Cities, if you know what I mean) Apple Festival is a great deal of fun, a celebration of red so intense that in a bluff-top cemetery in Appleton old Joe McCarthy must be spinning in his grave. Last night I volunteered at the important apple pie baking contest and pie social, an event my wife and our neighbor co-chaired for the first time. Talk about pressure – mess up the traditional apple pie contest in the apple capital of Wisconsin (sorry, Gays Mills, but you know it’s true) and who knows what shame and besmirchment would be visited on our household. Happily, the contest went off without any real glitches; the dozen volunteer judges sampled pies in a variety of categories from All-American Apple to Commercial to Creative, named the winners and awarded the prizes, all while a packed pavilion of pie-lusting people watched and waited their chance to ravage and sample the entries. Somewhere, Betty Crocker smiled her approval.

Now it is on to the party, a blowout that would likely amaze the growers who started a little fall festival for the community more than 40 years ago. There will be food (pork chops on a stick with apple mustard – hmmmm) and music, a special Apple Ale from the South Shore Brewery in Ashland and more crowds so large that they will have to park in fields at the edge of town and ride buses to the packed downtown streets. There will be a lighted boat cruise, and the popular pipe and drum corps from Thunder Bay will be on hand as always for their wake-up concert at the marina. There is even a creaky little carnival with rides and games for the gullible. And on Sunday the big Apple Festival parade will march down Rittenhouse Avenue, with apple-themed floats and apple-flavored displays and lots of high school bands whose members will rush from the finishing point back to the start at the top of the hill for a mass band that always signals the end of the parade and, by extension, of the season. And we will stand on the hill and cheer the Bayfield band the loudest. Tradition demands no less.

So fine, the city is crowded and maybe a little inconvenient but it is one weekend a year and the economy needs it to be successful. And it will be delicious fun. Better red than dead, I say.