The Wooden Sword

In honor of my dad's 90th birthday this week:

The year was around 1952. We had only been in our new home on Benjamin Street for a short time. The basement was still in its pre-paneling state. Primitive farm-scene paintings from the previous owner decorated the walls. Dad was working in a corner of the space that served as his workshop. I heard him working and walked down the dark, scary, open stairway. I had just seen or read something that gave me the desire for a sword. Perhaps it was from perusing a Dick and Jane reader. I seem to recall Dick with a wooden sword and a folded newspaper hat.  Or, perhaps it was from something I had seen on one of the two TV stations available at the time. In any case, I knew I needed a sword. Every guy needs one. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but I figured the talented man in the workshop could help me out.

I don’t recall how I made the request. It seems like it may have been indirect… something like: “Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had a sword?” I also could have asked for the wood and nails to make a sword myself. My memory is dim on the manner of the request. Where my memory is not dim is on the response. No words were spoken by dad after my request. He simply reached over into a pile of scrap wood and extracted a narrow strip of pine. He stepped to the old gray Shop Smith and began sawing. At this point I was still not sure that he had actually heard my request. He remained silent. I realized a sword was coming to life only when he sanded the end of the wooden strip to a gently rounded point. Corners were rounded and sanded. Rough edges were smoothed. Soon a cross guard was taking shape. There were careful inspections for slivers. I watched in great anticipation. My need for a simple rude weapon was being greatly exceeded. I followed him back and forth through the shop. Eventually, the haft was tightly wrapped with cord. It formed an authentic, rounded, hand grip. He pulled out tool after tool, each exactly suited for the task at hand. Finally, he reached up and grabbed a can of silver spray paint. With a few expert sweeps of the can, my sword glistened to life. En garde! Magnificent. And way beyond my simple expectations. The total elapsed time for construction was probably less than fifteen minutes.  But the impact was a lesson for life. This was one of many similar experiences that I - and many others - have had with dad. 

With dad - about sword time.

  A few years later I expressed a need for some model terrain for my very-flat train set. I was thinking something from the store. Dad was thinking something from the workshop. I was soon introduced to metal hardware-cloth screen, paper mache and flocking. In a short time I had several mountains, cuts and tunnels to bring realism to my train set.

Another year I returned from the State Fair, enamored with the scale-model dioramas that I had seen in the Home Activities building. In a space of only a couple square feet, hobbyists had created realistic miniature scenes with model cars, trains or airplanes. There were molded hillsides, tiny buildings and delightful details. When I expressed interest in creating a diorama, we immediately set to work. Dad built a wooden base with a raised corner. I learned to sculpt plaster of Paris. I embedded tiny trees and bushes made from moss. While my diorama never made it through the gates of the fair, I enjoyed many hours of creative dreaming… and problem solving.  

There was a very effective series of public service ads produced by the church in the 1980’s. The punch-line for each ad was a statement. ‘Give your children everything, give them your time.’ I think the ads were a powerful reminder. The result of dad’s generous offering of time and talent has been the desire in me to enjoy the creation experience with my own children and grandchildren. Making things for and with children can be a frustrating, but rewarding experience. Today I make boxes, airplanes, tunnels, dinosaurs, carved fish, and yes, even dioramas with my grandchildren. I want to give them everything… but what I have to give them, is my time. It’s a lesson I learned at the feet of a master, my dad.   

 

Sofia's Island Exploration

The adventures continue, this time with Sofia. The day was her eighth birthday, so certainly a fine adventure was warranted. According to her mom she loves camping and outdoor adventures. When I offered her the chance to explore an uninhabited island in the middle of the 'famous' Mississippi River, she jumped at the chance. She wanted her adventure to include building a fire and cooking barbecued chicken.

I have always wanted to visit the Islands of Peace, a series of Mississippi islands just north of the 694 bridge.

The island we landed on proved to be remarkably pristine. We found no human tracks of any kind.

The islands are subject to alternate bouts of flood waters and dry spells. We were there during a dry spell.

There were several channels that divided our island into sections. Just about everything was sand, so walking in the water was very safe.

Sofia is a natural climber. She was up this tree in just seconds, and quite confident.

Walk first in mud. Then walk in sand. Presto! New shoes!

Many children might be inclined to grab my hand when forging into an unknown, wild space. Not so with Sofia.

As we headed back to the car Sofia obviously had great sense of 'mission accomplished.'

While I was packing up the kayak, Sofia went for a spontaneous, joyful swim. While I didn't recommend it, it was a sign of her being completely in the moment.

For a more complete version of the trip, including our barbecued lunch with wild rice soup, we have posted a high-definition video on my YouTube page: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=elTq1rY7Qmg

Bryson

When I casually asked Bryson what kind of things he'd like to eat on our Grandpa Adventure he was pretty specific. He said when his family went camping they would always buy Campbell's Chunky style Chicken and Dumpling soup. They'd put it in the fire and watch the label burn off. Then they'd watch for bubbles on the side of the can to know if it was hot enough - and then they'd stir it to heat it evenly and watch for more bubbles. Fortunately, I didn't ask him what kind of firewood they used.

Adventure guys. We packed our gear and our Campbell's Hearty Creamy Chicken and Dumpling soup and got ready to roll.

I offered Bryson a number of different length trips. All would include bike riding, kayaking, camping and exploring. He chose a ten-mile adventure. I warned him that his five-mile bike ride would include a mile-long stretch of uphill, dirt-road riding. This sandy road would be harder than what his older brother did. He was eager to prove himself.  

We started by paddling a couple miles to one of my favorite island campsites.

This view, looking north from our island campsite, is one of my favorite's on all of the St. Croix.

First question when we were planning what we'd do: "Can we build a fire?"   With next to no help, Bryson started and tended the fire.

We complemented the chicken and dumpling soup with fresh-baked, hot blueberry muffin-cake.       Breakfast brought a Grandpa special: pancakes and Spam. Every American boy should learn to eat Spam.

I think I know how to tell when Bryson is happy. He makes little 'chirping' sounds - and he dances. When I told him I like camping the simple way, with just the bare necessities, he immediately launched into the Disney Bear Necessities song from Jungle Book. 

When we were breaking camp I challenged him to make as many 'letters' as he could from our shock-corded tent poles. After creating a number of letters he launched into other creative uses for the poles. This one was a single-rotor helicopter. I gave him ten points for it.

After a short paddle, I asked Bryson if he'd like to drink some fresh, cold spring water, right out of the ground. Without hesitation, he dropped down and drank his fill. My kind of boy.

As we paddled the last couple miles down to our bikes, we stopped on the Minnesota side to explore.

The biking portion was a challenge on the soft sand - with several tumbles - but he hopped back on and kept riding.

Bryson also wanted to visit the site of the old paint mine like his brother. Here he poses on the steps of a long-lost building. (See 'St. Croix Tri' - immediately below.)

St. Croix Tri

You've probably seen some of my posts about 'Grandpa Adventures.' These are the kind of things I wish I might have done with a grandpa if I had one in my life when I was younger. I'm happy to say that several grandchildren have risen to the bait. When I discussed with Marcus just what kind of challenge he was up for - he went for the max.  I gave him several combinations of distance and activity, the longest of which was an 'Adventure Triathlon' that included kayaking, biking and camping and was the length of a marathon - 26.5 miles.

We packed up food and gear in our little inflatable kayak and put in at Nelson's Landing on the upper St. Croix.

We started out on a perfect North Woods afternoon. This is looking up-river from one of the many island campsites we checked out.

Water level was quite low. If you look in the foreground of this shot you'll see the bottom - six inches down, and we were in the middle of the river! We had to remove the skeg because it was constantly dragging on rocks and sand.

We paddled through miles of class 2 rapids. Marcus got pretty good at reading the water.

We stopped at the ruins of an old 1890's 'paint mine' site deep in the woods. All that's left are foundations and the old water wheel. We got some drinking water from the springs that feed the stream.

We finally settled on a campsite about ten miles down from where we started. Looking upstream, we could see four or five islands.

We made dinner and a campfire and watched the sun go down.

We reached the Hwy 70 bridge about noon on day two. We had hidden our bikes by the landing. We then rode fourteen miles on back roads to Nelson's Landing where the car was. Twenty-six and a half miles under human power.   Should I mention that Marcus slept all the way home?   This was not from trip-induced fatigue but from the greatest challenge of all, Grandpa's snoring.

Root River 100

          Most of my friends know I love biking. Most of them also know I put on two bicycling events each year. First, a 100 mile ride and second, a Minnesota Border2Border ride. The 100's are two-day rides designed for the intermediate rider who's looking for a good challenge. The Border2Border takes the same thing to the next level with a four-day 225 mile ride. I try to find unique venues to ride

and design an award plaque for finishers.

We had fifty riders on the Root River 100. We got all but about 8-10 in this photo.

     This year's route took us on some carefully selected roads and on nearly all of both the Root River trail and the Harmony Preston Valley Trails.

 

We started our ride in Caledonia, up on the prairie.

These trails have over fifty bridges. For the most part they follow old railroad grades.

 
  
 

We definitely overflowed the bike racks at our lunch stop in Rushford.

If you like scenic farms, this is the part of the state for you.

The Root River hosts hundreds of tubers and kayakers on weekends.

Amish Farmers set up their wares for sale in the park in Lanesboro. It would be fun to get them in the picture, but they prefer 'no photos.'

The Harmony/Preston Valley Trail has three miles of downhill.

Your tax dollars at work. Preston.

We had near ideal weather.

The pause that refreshes...

This year's award plaque features the mystical 'Tree of Life.'

Introducing Grandpa Adventures

My logo for the new program. With 20 grandchildren, I figured it was worth the effort.

     By the time I was five years old both of my Grandfathers had passed away. My Grandpa Fred babysat me while my parents worked. According to the stories I've been told, he doted on me. My mom said one of his dying sentences referred to me. He reported in a strained voice, "He said 'birdy' today." The year was 1948 and I was almost exactly fifteen months old.  He had just turned age 65.
     In 1951 I actually remember going to the mortuary with my parents to select a casket for my Grandpa Martin's funeral. Other than this rather clear memory, I have no personal recollections of the man. I was exactly four and one half years old on the day of his funeral. He was 69 years old.
     Fortunately, I had two grandmothers that I loved, and I grew to adulthood with them in my life. I must say, however, that I have always missed the presence of a grandfather. In my day many grandfathers were typically remembered as farmers. If they weren't working farmers, certainly they were raised on farms. This was the case with my grandfathers. Many of my peers had stories of driving grandpa's tractor, helping him milk cows, or at least, visiting him on the farm.
     I've had the wonderful experience of being a grandfather for nearly sixteen years and I'll have to say I have loved the experience. I've tried to bring real value to the role. Now it's time for the next level. Introducing Grandpa Adventures!

I've been returning to some of my favorite camping spots on the St Croix to test how easily we can access them in an inflatable.

     I'm planning 'right-sized' adventures for grandkids who are 'adventure-capable.' I'm still developing criteria, but in general, I want to give them a chance to do something they probably wouldn't get to do with their parents. 

We will always be looking for - and commenting on, and photographing - beauty in the natural world, like these flowers near the campsite above.

   


     I'd like to give older children the opportunity to camp, paddle and bike on overnight adventures. Younger kids can do shorter trips without camping, with the same objectives.

An overnight experience at some of my favorite places, like the site we call 'Benson Bluffs' on the Wisconsin side of the St. Croix, would be great for older kids.

I have been riding some of my favorite St. Croix back roads like Rustic Road, here, near Grantsburg, to find a safe place for combining a bike adventure with kayaking. This trip, for older kids, would include a ten mile paddle, an overnight, and a ten mile bike ride.

      Grandpa Adventures have already begun. See Kyler's Great Egret experience below.

Kyler and the Great Egrets

       Kyler faced this adventure with some small trepidation. When he learned we were looking for a hidden waterfall, he was quite concerned that we might go over it.

     Part of every good adventure is recording it. We always carry a camera or two. You never know when you might be surprised by a strange, rare animal or bird.

As we head down a remote jungle river, Kyler takes a photo of the guide.

A beautiful bridge near sunset. Civilization can't be too far away.

      We are always on the lookout for ways we can help keep the world beautiful. We find an abandoned fishing bobber floating near the shore.

This bobber has already been pecked at by water birds. If an Egret or Heron swallowed it, it could choke the bird. This one was attached to a long piece of monofiliment line, which would be even worse for the bird.

     We round a bend in the waterway and hear strange sounds coming from high above us. We see an amazing sight. The tops of the trees are filling with Great Egrets coming home to roost for the night. Flight after flight comes in and with 'goo'-ing sounds. We watch as they sort themselves onto various branches. Some of them argue and peck at one another when another bird is a bit too close.

Great Egrets returning to their rookery for the night.

     Great Egrets are solo birds during the day. They fly many miles to find good spots to fish along the shore.  Each night, however, they return to their rookery to spend the night.

We lose count as over fifty of these majestic birds come in and land as we watch.

     
     After a little more paddling we hear the sound of rushing water. It's the waterfall, at last!

Kyler feels some pride in making it to this place. The waterfall cannot be seen from any car. Only those who come by boat, on foot or by bike get the treat of seeing it.

     For me the night was complete when Kyler asked me if I would still be around to take his children on 'Grandpa Adventures.'