It wasn't a perfect day...

...but it was just a few clicks short of perfect. Maybe 3-5 degrees warmer, maybe 3-5 mph winds rather than 10-15, and add my wife with me, it would have been perfect. But I'll take what I can get and be grateful.

While the Sugar was not at flood stage, it was definitely at bank full stage. There was some great tree paddling to be had. But I am getting ahead of myself. First, music for the ride to Attica, WI.

Charley bought some popcorn, Billy bought a car
Someone almost bought the farm, but they didn't go that far
Things shut down at midnight, at least around here they do
Cause we all reside down the block inside at 23 Skidoo.

Driving to the Sugar is always more fun because I take the back roads. Better gas mileage since I'm not pushing the Brick through fast air, and I can leave the windows open and crank up the John Prine, possibly the best road music ever. Not the best voice, not even the best musician, but he has a John Prineness that no one else has, and his music makes it pleasant to go slower, something of which we can all use a little more.

There's a big old goofy man
Dancing with a big old goofy girl
Ooh baby, it's a big old goofy world.

Yep. Goofy.

I dropped the canoe at the landing and headed for the takeout at Dunlap Road/County Hwy EE, dropped the Brick and started walking, wearing a PFD and carrying a canoe paddle with a little sign that said "To Attica, Thank You." That was 10:37 AM. After two Chevy Luminas full of older ladies with blue hair (I wouldn't have picked me up if I were them), a truck passed, checked me in the rear view and stopped to give me a lift. I love Green County. People are nice if you carry a canoe paddle. It took me six minutes and three cars to get a ride. Try that in Los Angeles. On second thought, don't.

I got to the truck, opened the door and said "Hey! Thanks a lot." The driver looked at me and said "Wait a minute...Darren! From Rutabaga! We met last Spring." So it turns out the third car to pass was a customer and a guy I had met before. He took me all the way to the put in without a thought (considerably out of his way), but as he said, "Hey, anything for a fellow paddler." Thanks, Jim.


The birds were totally out of control today. I saw herons (of course), mallards and geese (of course), kingfishers (not uncommon), etc. But I also saw two barn owls fly away as I paddled unexpectedly under their roost. I saw wood ducks, grebes, and a bunch of warblers, including a pair of curious yellow-rumped warblers on their way north. I tried to get a picture but it sucked (optical zoom, over my shoulder, etc.). At least there is proof. :-)

The water levels allowed some tree paddling, so I did some out-of-bank exploration. All you have to do is follow the grass. The Prism was a little long for some of the tree paddling, I wished for my Argosy, but what are you gonna do? You don't paddle with the canoe you want, you paddle with the canoe you have. Sounds sorta Rumsfeldian, doesn't it?

Because of the current the paddle was over too fast, despite my attempts to go slow and poke around in the backwaters. All good paddles must come to an end, but the adventure was not over.

Rather than take the straight route home, I opted for the meandering route, which I hoped would take me to Monticello, home of the M&M Cafe. The M&M has great service (two sweet older women who even serve you five minutes before closing), and most importantly, great pie. In Darren's world, a day paddle is not complete without good pie that is made on-site. I cannot abide outsourced pie.

"I think we have one small piece of banana creme left," said Waitress A. Waitress B corroborated the story, and a cup of tomato bisque soup and this small slice of pie was produced. It was in the top three BCPs I have ever eaten.

I like to buy things that you can only get one place. It helps remind me of the time I was there, and it pumps a few extra dollars into a local economy. They had these cool M&M Cafe mugs, so I bought one. It was six bucks, four for $18.00. I got one, needing four mugs like I needed another canoe paddle. With the pie, soup, and a Pepsi, the total was $12.15, so I left fifteen and headed home. With my new mug and a collection of great memories.

Guess where I am going today...

...Antarctica.

Just kidding.

I'm going here. The Sugar River. 42°36'42", 89°23'53". Hey, why not? We're back under flood stage and it's going to be 65 degrees and partly sunny. I'm running a bike shuttle so it's gonna be a double-fun paddle/cycle extravaganza.

I love mid-week days off. It has a slight flavor of getting away with something, like skipping school. Actually, it feels more like being unemployed without the downside.

Try it sometime. You'll notice as you drive to your hooky destination, you'll see grim-faced drivers heading into town for work on the major arteries -- Highways 14, 151, 12-18, etc.

Some of them see the canoe on the car, and I can see their grim faces relax a little; some of them might even smile a little. I guess I represent what could be.

I feel better already...

All it takes is a solitary Sharp-Lobed Hepatica blossom. I admit that for me that the bar is set low, but then again, why set the bar high for happiness? Bring it on! Oodles of happiness in the form of flowers, insects, birds, mosses, lichens, and other things that grow.

If the plant thing doesn't work for you, how can you feel bad about the world when a dog is so happy to be alive?

If a Sharp-Lobed Hepatica/Black Lab combination doesn't work for you, there's a significant chance you're beyond all hope. Go do something whimsical right this second or you'll die and be forced to live in the leather-patched tweed jacket section of hell where everything is deconstructed but nothing is enjoyed.

Remember all those pictures of you naked in the bathtub?

Sure you do. Everyone has them somewhere locked up in their parent's attics.

Of course, now we have blogs. Now you can show your kid's cute widdle bum to the entire cyber-universe.

This is one good reason that some people should not have access to broadband. Kyler, I am so, so sorry. There are good therapists out there who specialize in children of parents who over-disclose on their family blogs. A couple of years (with sessions twice a week or so) should take care of any trauma suffered from the hundreds, perhaps thousands of people seeing you on a potty seat. It's not your fault!

I need to post something positive right now or I will be depressed for a fortnight.

The Spring Ephemeral Riot has begun...

Wisconsin has more than its share of nature's temporal markers. If you see a blooming Hepatica, it must be mid to late April. Emerging May Apples. The first leaves of the Wild Ginger poking up through the oak leaves. Skunk cabbage. Dutchmen's Breeches. Solomon's Seal. Trillium of many varieties.

We took a nice walk yesterday at Governor Dodge State Park, just west of us in the Driftless Zone where the glaciers never made it. The topography is hilly and beautiful, and if you throw a bucket of water on the ground it will find its way to one of a thousand feeder streams and eventually end up in the Mississippi River.

This is a good time to walk Gov. Dodge because no one goes there when it's "this cold." We saw one other couple on the trail, and I'm sure no one else was out there. I was annoying I'm sure, as I was on my knees and elbows at every turn, wanting to take a picture of this and that. My good wife indulges me.

We were walking the Pine Cliff/White Oak trail, a loop of about 2-3 miles, which is a family favorite. We've walked it dozens of times, and I never tire of it, especially when it changes so much season to season. Large limestone outcroppings hide springs that keep the ferns and mosses happy, and the water flowing down the rock faces makes a wonderful music that is so welcome after a long, quiet winter.

The Sharp-Lobed Hepatica (H. acutiloba) is the first to catch my attention. It's last year's liver-colored leaves that I first notice, which is why the common name of the sp. Hepatica is "liverleaf." This year's growth was already starting up the middle of the plant, and there was at least one flower, small white lovely thing that is one of the first to show up once the sun melts all the snow. Also common were the emerging May Apples that will soon cover the forest floor like a thousand small umbrellas. You can see the flower bud easily on the emerging plants, and in a few weeks there will be large white blossoms hanging below the plant's twin leaves.We are so fortunate to live in a seasonal place. Next week we'll see Pasque Flowers, most likely. Magnolias are blooming, the redbud is starting to show redbuds, and the maples are flowering, so the bees are starting to get out and gather pollen, their first source of food other than winter honey.

I took 71 pictures. Digital, I hate to say it, is here to stay. Anyone want to buy a medium format camera?

Top to bottom: A field of Purple Trillium, Hepatica, an emerging May Apple, Large-Flowered Bellwort, fiddleheads.

Celastrina ladon ladon

A Spring Azure (Celastrina ladon ladon). If you walk in the woods in the Spring, you may be lucky to spot one of these little guys. They are one of the first butterflies to be seen in Wisconsin in the Spring that doesn't hibernate here. We were lucky to see it—it is a Gossamer and very, very small. It is slightly bluer than in the picture, the photo was a bit overexposed in all my excitement.

For more information about the awesome array of butterflies (and odonates too!) go to www.wisconsinbutterflies.org.

The Shack

A few years ago, actually eight years ago, I build this shack. This is, as my wife says, what happens when you don't build enough forts as a child.

It's a simple structure, 12 x 16' because I wanted to create as little waste as possible. The total waste from this structure filled one and a half wheelbarrows, except for the gable ends, which created two large triangles of OSB that I could not use anywhere else. The windows were recycled from a cabin that burned down, the stovepipe likewise. The wood stove was the little Upland we used heating our old home.

The best thing about the shack is its proximity. It's 60 feet from our back door, our little cabin in the woods that we can visit without burning any gas.

This week is our anniversary (24 years) and we were going to go camping for the weekend, but the thunderstorms and high winds convinced us otherwise. Instead, we went camping in The Shack.


Lofts are essential components of any good shack, and sleeping lofts are the sine qua non—you stay warmer longer as the heat rises in cooler weather, and with a door cracked and the loft window cracked in the summer you get a nice flow through of air such that air conditioning is totally unneeded.

So we went camping last night.

I really like camping.

Especially with a shackmate like this one.

Today was concrete day.

We dodged a bullet with the weather and were able to pour footings before it started raining. We had to pump out a few times because of a high water table and some of the soil is sandy and silty so water moves through it fairly easily.

The formers were fast and amazingly deft with big chunks of rebar. It's really a treat to watch tradesmen working like a well-oiled machine. No wasted energy, minimal communication -- stuff just gets done.

We'll hopefully get to get the forms set for the retaining wall and sonatubes tomorrow, then we wait. We'll pour those Monday if the weather holds, wait three days and backfill. Then we wait a few more days and put up the steel beam, and start to tie into the building.

I am obsolete...

Who needs me? Who needs any of us after this amazing technological breakthrough.

http://kayakpaddling.net/

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the future. It's the Stepford Instructors. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid. I would love to see this done with Kelly Blades doing the MST3K commentary.

It's actually harmless...unless someone things they've actually been instructed after watching these clips.

Paging Mr. Hoffa...Mr. Jimmy Hoffa...

Today, after several bureaucratic snafus and delays by a petty and insignificant man, the construction on the deck behind Rutabaga started up in earnest. There was a large, and I mean large backhoe. Jim, the driver/artist, was amazing. I believe he could pick a sliver out of my finger blindfolded. He could dig out a dandelion without disturbing the surrounding turf. Frankly, I'd say the guys spending a bazillion Euro building the massive super-collider at CERN would be better off splitting atoms hiring Jim. Just tell him how you want the atom divided, which orbitals you want where, and there ya go.

The footings will be poured tomorrow, Lord willing. We had soil testers out today and with a little bit of stone added, I think we have a good footing, but it has been such a wet year I was concerned it would be worse. Silty sand, not clay, is a good thing. I also learned from Dave, the soils engineer, that the worst soil upon which to build is Houghton Muck. I have no idea what H.M. is, but it caused Dave to grimace uncomfortably. I can just see the contractor -- "I'm sorry to tell you this...you have Houghton Muck. There is no known cure."

The world is a lovely place right now. A short walk around the neighborhood today showed evidence of Bluebells and Lungwort, as well as May Apples and Hepatica. Saw a few Dutchmen's Breeches too, and other early spring things too numerous to mention.

A nice party...

...just some friends from work hanging out in the back yard by the fire pit while the youngsters (myself included) played 500 with a rugby ball.

No one was hurt. Except we decimated Valerie's canoe cake. Clever, but also amazingly yummy.

The bloodroot is up...and the trout lilies are blooming too!

Before Stephanie's mother passed away we took a clump of bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) and transplanted it here at the house. Fitting, as Stephanie's grandmother planted the S. canadensis at Stephanie's house before she was born in the late 50s. This little clump of bloodroot is over 50 years old. Cool. Notice again that a cool plant is named for Canada. Does that mean Rosie is a Homo canadensis?


Also fully emerged and starting to blossom is the patch of Trout Lilies (Erythronium albidum). Just a few lilies, about 3/4 of an inch across, and just as lovely as last year. The patch has spread and is moving back toward the lot line into the creek behind the house. I am keeping the garlic mustard under control as best I can, given I have a neighbor on the other side of the creek who is a misanthropic radical socialist who does nothing to his yard to control that stuff. Now I am decidedly a low-maintenance yard guy. I believe in entropic yard maintenance. That said, I do my best to keep invasive species under control. We love our neighbors on both sides, and they love us. Colonel Garlic Mustard...well...into each life a little acid rain must fall.

I grew up in California, which has no significant markers to notify one of the changing of seasons. In California, there is a Green Season (2 months) and Brown Season (10 months). That's about it. What I love so much about Southern Wisconsin are the multiple markers of micro-seasons. The first nuthatches honking on the silver maples, the first sign of a redbud blooming, the robins building nests, the box elder bugs congregating in warm spots on the east side of the house...and best of all, the spring ephemerals.

We live in paradise, folks. At least it feels that way today.

Science Experiment

Sometimes a boat is put away for the winter with a few cups of moisture in it, sealed up with a cockpit cover, and there ya go. Congratulations, you've just created a 55-gallon petri dish.

Even though we had a long, cold winter, there are some pretty amazing creatures that grow inside whitewater boats even through the deep freeze. I found out first hand when I opened the cockpit to air it out and make sure the outfitting was ready to go for the whitewater season. To quote Roseanne Rosannadana, "I thought I was gonna die." What was growing in my boat could gag a billy goat with a bad head cold. It wasn't the volume of creatures, it was the pungency.

Plugging my nose with a clothespin, I washed out the Hoss C1 and rinsed it with a mild bleach solution. Sure, I killed 99.44% of the little buggers, but my guess is that I'm only creating Supermold that will be able to dissolve and digest polyethylene and closed-cell foam, leaving only an empty husk.

A nice day-off project

I had a day off today. Mid-week days off are sorta sweet...you're off everyone else's 9-to-5 Mon-Fri schedule, so you can have a little more freedom than a Saturday.

I was going to work on building shelves in the basement, but given the glorious weather today, it would have been a crime. I will do that when it's raining this fall. I decided instead to build some Leopold Benches.

Aldo Leopold designed these benches years ago, I have no idea when. They were made so that they could be build by almost anyone with a saw, drill, screwdriver and a crescent wrench. I cheated a little and used a power saw, power drill, and a palm sander to get the slivers off the wood. The outcome was satisfactory.

I recycled a bunch of wood from the shop, from racks were tore down to replace with Aquaracks. All I needed was three 10' 2x8s. Everything else was cut out of pieces left over. The rest will be turned into kindling for next year's fireplace.

I think if you had the right set-up and a few people, you could make these by the dozens. They're deceptively comfortable, simple, and authentically rustic.

Small comfort...

78%

Probably because I said I'd go back and try to save my friends and family rather than leaving them in the hands of the undead.

From the Frisbee's point of view...

Gracie likes it.

Happy Birthday to me.....

Happy Birthday to meeeee....

I am officially middle-aged. Actually, I needed a base of operations for Quietwater Films when we are filming on location. So it's a tax deduction and a fun machine.

A view from the roof...

So today I got to climb on the roof, as I needed to clean out some seriously nasty rain gutters, since they were completely non-functional and in bad shape.

While I was up there, I decided to take a look around and I saw a really cool view of the back lot leading out to the dock. Ignore the bass fisherman squatting (not literally) on our dock. It's a pretty sight, all those kayaks all lined up waiting for SPRING.

My new, sweet, wonderful ride...

I love cycling, always have since my first Schwinn Stingray (gold) with a sparkling vinyl banana seat and a sissy bar in back. I progressed through a series of different bicycles over the years, and now...I've come full circle.

I have been lusting after a Rivendell for years, but only hard-core cyclists (or trust funders who think they are) can afford a Rivendell. They are works of art, and are worth every penny, and maybe someday when I retire I'll get one and ride across the U.S. or something like that.

In the meantime, I must go budget. That said, you can get a lot of bike for not a lot of money if you're willing to give up a few things...like dérailleurs and freewheels and stuff like that.

The Schwinn Madison is a sweet, sweet ride. I got her last week, still in the box, and built her up Saturday night. I went for not one but two rides on Sunday, one with Stephanie and one without. Even out of shape and carrying ten pounds of winter lard, I still managed a 19 mph average speed for a nice 10-mile sprint around the lake. It made me feel really good...powering up those long hills without the benefit of lower gears...I dunno, it feels pure somehow.

The best part about a fixie is the quiet nature of the drive mechanism. No dérailleurs to purr and clank, no freewheel buzzing, nothing. Just smooth, direct, quiet power from my quivering, lactic-acid drenched legs. I can't recommend then enough. I somehow think my old Bridgestone crossbike is going to be gathering more dust this Spring.

P.S. One more reason to love Rivendell: The Tips for Happy Riding.

My niece, Hailey

Okay, so she's not my niece...but I have sisters and brothers from different mothers, uncles and aunts that aren't related to my parents, and at least one grandfather who isn't. My definition of family is a little skewed toward inclusion.

Hailey, a charming 14-year old, is an up and coming slalom racer, talented and poised beyond her years. She certainly charmed the socks off me at Canoecopia. She was asking for a donation, but was unclear what she wanted or needed, so Uncle Darren took her under his wing and explained how this sponsored athlete thing works.

Athletes want gear and cash. Vendors want associations with exceptional athletes and beyond that, exceptional people. They want their product portrayed to the world in a good light, by people who not only win, but are good examples to the world of what it means to be a paddler. N.B. I have no idea why some whitewater paddlers are sponsored, given their off-river behavior. It's often crude and usually shameful. Anyway...

Once Hailey and I had a list of what she wanted and needed, we started talking to different folks and found that most if not all were receptive to being associated with Hailey and her C-1, Nemo (notice the similarity). Lili from MTI/Palm was exceptionally impressed, as was Carol from Smartwool, Jim from Werner, Bruce from Sawyer Paddle, Michael from Kokatat, and a few other various and sundry vendors who helped get Hailey outfitted for this season.


Walking back to meet her parents, Hailey put her little arm around my waist, gave me a little sideways hug and said, "Uncle Darren, you're brilliant." Actually, Hailey is the brilliant one, training hard while maintaining a honor roll GPA and developing other skills as an artist.

In short, just the sort of person you'd want to have as a niece.

I kiiiilll you....

I dedicate this post to Kelly Blades. Ladies and Gentlemen, Akhmed the Dead Terrorist.

Gas Station Illiteracy

Somewhere in Tennessee.

It's a lovely, lovely weekend. Be sure to think like a dog today.

नमस्ते,

Darren

A story in pictures...from the backyard

Take one Cardinal...

...add one Immature Coopers Hawk...

...and you get...

...this.

This was all that was left. I guess Mr. Cardinal was a little too eager to attract the ladies. Mr. Cooper was more than happy to answer the call.

My son, the blacksmith...

Ian has a great art teacher at school, and periodically he gets an assignment called "You're the Artist." He is given free reign to create anything he wants to in any medium, and lately, the medium of choice has been steel.

He really likes welding...and if I were 15, I'd totally be into welding...the magic of introducing huge amounts of heat into a very small area, almost vaporizing the metal on each side and introducing molten metal. It's cool. It's also tricky to get it right without burning through the thin piece or having a cool joint that doesn't hold.


I think one of the reasons I work with my hands so much whenever possible is that I didn't have the opportunity to do this growing up. My father had many talents, but he was not a "handy" person. Change a tire on the car, maybe replace the windshield wiper blades, that's about it.

I want Ian to have opportunities to try things. Maybe he'll end up doing nothing with his hands, but at least he can say "I weld." The cool factor is extremely high.



Someday I think we'll weld up a bicycle frame. Not like these, though.


The finished product.

Today we learned about 38 degree water...

We did not, however, learn about shrinkage. We were in dry suits. Not wet suits. DRY suits.

Rutabaga bought a bunch of dry suits to give the staff something to use early season, allow customers to try/rent, and to just get everyone more familiar with the idea behind a dry suit. It was successful. NRS and Kokatat provided us with suits (at a good discount, thanks Farley and Michael!) and we figured there's no better time than now, given the ice was off the pond just a few days ago.


No one was really excited about putting their hands and faces in the water (we hire smart people). Still, we had fun. Margaret had a little trouble due to her abundance of hair. Strangely that's never a problem for me...

Spring is officially here...Trout Liles are incapable of deception

I know, I know. I keep saying that. But this time I have proof, i.e., the first signs of my Erythronium albidum showing their first tentative and shy sprouts through the loam soil on the side of my backyard shack.

E. albidum, or White Trout Lilies, are native to Southern Ontario but a large patch of them was established my my backyard at least 20-25 years ago by the original owner of this home, Evelyn Bakke. Evelyn has since passed on, enjoying the Ephemeral Garden in the Sky. I still thank her every Spring when my lilies poke their heads through and scream in tiny white voices that winter is really over, and nothing we can do will stop the inevitable progression toward Life and Warmth.

I sometimes love Family Guy...

Brian: Hola, me llamo es Brian ... Nosotros queremos ir con ustedes.. uhhhh ...

Bellboy (Spanish): Hey, that was pretty good, except when you said "me llamo es Brian," you don't need the "es," just me llamo Brian.

Brian: Oh, oh you speak English!

Bellboy (sigh): No, just that first speech and this one explaining it.

Brian: You .... you're kidding me, right?

Bellboy (Spanish): Que?

Precious.