Lambeau Field

6/22/12         

        Primate worried over the electrical problem with his car and made phone calls. What to do? Primate opened a discussion with Dr. Bobo and Christopher about our situation. "Can we risk driving on?"

      "Probably, a bad idea. We don't want to be stuck away from a large town," Dr. Bobo replied.

       Your right about that, I thought.

       We proceeded into Duluth to a repair shop and learned the alternator needed replacing or rebuilding. A new alternator could be brought from Minneapolis, available this afternoon, and we'd be on our way later today, worse case.

       "Whichever comes first," I said to the repair shop owner.

       "Yeah," Primate said, clearly relieved over these developments.

       Christopher, Dr. Bobo and I busied ourselves with e-mails, texting, phone calls while we waited at the shop.

       When I sought out the repairman at noon to inquire about the repair status, he informed me, "It's done."

       Primate was relieved. Christopher and Dr. Bobo were disappointed over losing the Wi-Fi connection.

       Dr. Bobo drove us north along the shore of Lake Superior to Gooseberry Falls State Park where we secured a campsite. Along the way we saw amply evidence of recent flooding. The streams ran fast, broken trees littered one bridge, water falls roared, and people viewed scenes from the roadway.

       Primate drove us to the trail head of Eagle Mountain, 2301 feet elevation, the highest point of Minnesota.

       We trudged up the 3.5-mile trail at a good pace, but detoured through the woods when we encountered a stream that had taken possession of the path. We bushwacked thirty minutes through heavy undergrowth until we bypassed the stream. At the summit we took obligatory photos and completed our round trip in three hours.

Primate Looks At The MN High Point. 

       On our return to the campground we stopped in Grand Marais to touch the water of Lake Superior, Minnesota's low point, don't cha' know?

         

       Another dinner of canned chili and instant rice, this time flavored with spicy peppers and washed down with beer, capped the day.

       

       The odometer gained 254 miles, while we gained another high point  and low point, and best of all, according to Primate, "Car fixed."

         

       "And we lost only a few hours in the process," I added.

       Low points - seven; high points - two.

6/23/12         

        Gear packed up, everything dry, we prepared to leave the campground.

        Christopher commented, " I think I understand the psychology of a pack rat. Call me, Creature."

        "Okay, get back in your hole," Dr. Bobo told him.

        We agreed to restock food and gas the car in Duluth.

        "More rain," Primate said, when first drops pelted the windshield.

        We failed to find a suitable place to resupply in Duluth so crossed a bridge into Superior, Wisconsin to purchase our needs, then continued southeast in the rain. Creature slept in the back seat. On the way we passed the Wobbly Hog Saloon, the world's largest deer, according to Dr. Bobo and me, the town of Glidden with evidence of flooding, until we turned left from Ogema, "The gateway to Wisconsin's highest point."

        We reached the parking lot at Timm's Hill and within five minutes stood at the top, 1951.5 feet. Then we climbed the eighty-eight steps to the top of the observation tower to see the views of surrounding hills covered with trees.

        Onward we drove, now north to Upper Michigan. The drive seemed endless.

        "Should we try for our next goal today?" I asked Dr. Bobo.

        "I think we can make it. It's not getting dark until 9PM. We can camp in a National Forest, if we need to," he responded.

        As the day grew long Primate drove the gravel roads that led us to the trail head at Mount Arvon. We discovered we were in luck. The high point lay a mere 150 feet from the parking area. Within five minutes we photographed one another at Michigan's high point, 1979.238 feet.  Gas cost $3.45.9 per gallon. We raced the sun to find a good campsite before dark and found an ideal spot for the night. We set up our tents in near perfect conditions, except for the mosquitoes that buzzed around us, but more rain intruded on our meal preparation, so we retreated to the car to eat our canned chili with instant rice, topped with spicy peppers, and washed down with our two remaining beers.

        The odometer recorded another 457 miles. We recorded two more high points.

        Low points - seven; high points - four.

6/24/12         

        The sound of rain kept me awake several hours. We arose to damp gear and only dried it a little before we packed it away and headed onward.

        "Things should dry out tonight, if we have no rain," Dr. Bobo noted.

        Question of the day - how far could we get?

        Primate got behind the wheel.

        I discovered mosquito bites on my left eyebrow and under my chin amongst week old whiskers. Those creative bloodsuckers, I thought.

        "We should try to get past Chicago, " Dr. Bobo stated.

        "Yea, Monday morning commute traffic would be bad news," I said.

        Dr. Bobo and I each feasted on 1/2 cinnamon bagel covered with chunky peanut butter. Christopher declined.

        Dr. Bobo served as navigator and called out turns and distances as we went.

        "Now we're 122 miles from Green Bay," he announced.

        I had difficulty imagining I would be in Green Bay soon. I've heard of it since first watching the Packers play football on TV.

        We passed by Lambeau Field, left Michigan, went through Spread Eagle, Wisconsin, re-entered Michigan, then back into Wisconsin. I couldn't keep track where I was.

        We passed the "I Don't Know Saloon." Where were you?

        South of Green Bay forests gave way to dairy farms. We passed Norway, then Denmark.

        "We're making good time," I said.

        Dr. Bobo examined the map. "Now that I think about it, we should stop in Sheboygan. Milwaukee may be crowded."

        A motorcycle policeman turned on his siren and pulled over a vehicle headed the opposite direction.

        "Get 'em," I yelled in jest.

        "Random road tax," said Dr. Bobo.

        Primate followed directions and we pulled up to a beach for Wisconsin's low point.

        Primate removed his shoes and stood in Lake Michigan. "Pee," he said, with a grin.

        I looked at Primate with a frown. "Not here, use the public restroom." I pointed to a large building some hundred yards away.

        "K," he replied with a shrug and trundled off.

        We continued south. Vehicles passed us in ones and groups up to six in moving queues above the speed limit. Traffic came to a standstill, then crawled along while we basked in the strong odor of animal waste wafting from an unseen location, before we resumed high speed travel again. We crossed the Kankakee River, flat farmland of northern Indiana, then the Wabash River.

        I recognized these names.

        We focused on getting to a campsite in Indiana. Christopher and Dr. Bobo searched for suitable places on the internet and made phone calls. We settled on a place near the eastern Indiana border.

        I took note of a filling station gas price of $3.39.9 per gallon and thought, what are we doing in California?

        We turned left at Indianapolis and headed east again. The sun set as we arrived at our chosen destination for today, Grampa's Farm Campground RV Park.

        We logged 623 miles and added another low point.

        Low points - eight; high points - four.