Alma: a small town on the Mississippi River

During our recent trip to Merrick State Park, we drove about 15 minutes north to the small town of Alma.  With low expectations, we were pleasantly surprised. 

Alma is a both a barge and railroad town.  The Corp of Engineers maintains the locks.

 

At one time, Alma, like many small Wisconsin towns, had its own brewery. Only the sign remains.

We hiked up the Buena Vista Trail, which starts on Main Street and switchbacks up the bluff for a nice view of the River below.

Note:  I've not been busy blogging this month, but I have been busy.  We managed to sell our wooded acreage to help fund some of our early retirement and health insurance.  That money will also help us support our son Justin's move to an apartment in Madison.  The land was originally meant for our dream home, but dreams change, as we all know. Since it was a build-able lot and came with increasing taxes, it actually was a relief to let it go before the housing market collapses again.

Although Justin qualifies for Section 8 housing, based on disability and income, no apartment was ever going to be available to him as a non-resident.  We will get Justin set up for a year or two, and hopefully he will then qualify for cheaper housing.  Madison apartments are terribly expensive, starting at about $900/month for a one bedroom "affordable apartment" with a tax credit to the developer. And, of course, any apartment for Justin also has to be accessible.  Section 8 housing is 1/3 of income including utilities but in very short supply.  The accessible ones would qualify as "rare." 

Scamping Again on the Mississippi River

We’ve been spending a few days on the banks of the Mississippi—about an hour north of LaCrosse, Wisconsin. 

Most of the time, I think of rivers as a single water pathway, but the Mississippi River doesn’t limit itself in that way. Much of the wild country is in the algae-covered back channels and bays—much too shallow for the grain barges and yachts that move through the system of locks.  Julia is exploring in her inflatable kayak, while Callie and I stick to firmer ground.

View through the trees behind the Scamp

It’s all good, except for the mosquitoes and no-see-ums. 

New Mexico: Heading Home

 From Feb/March 2022:

We had high but unrealistic expectations for Las Cruces.  It checked off a lot of boxes for us on paper.  In my travels, I've often found that hidden gems are frequently discovered without any expectations.

Boston Hill Open Space

 

That was the case for Silver City, New Mexico.  It wasn't exactly on the way home to Wisconsin.  It was out of the way, but something about this place in the high country called out to us, and we listened.  

We arrived too early to check into our hotel, so we spent some time hiking the Boston Hill Open Space, which overlooks the town.  It was the last day of February, but temperatures were moderate, especially compared to back home.  

Like Bisbee, Silver City is a historic mining town, as evidenced by all of the holes in the ground at the Boston Hill Open Space.  A little after noon, we were able to get into our pet-friendly hotel room.

 

During the afternoon, we checked out the downtown streets, having a tasty beer at the Little Toad Creek Brewery.  Later, we walked Big Ditch Park.  This area used to be Main Street before the floods of 1895 and 1903.

 

 

Eventually, walking northwest from downtown, we found ourselves at the small Western New Mexico University.  Unlike New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, this university seemed well-integrated into its host city.

 

The hotel desk clerk recommended the Buckhorn Saloon and Opera House in Pinos Altos for dinner.  Opened in the 1860's and at 7000' elevation, we had a leisurely meal at the Buckhorn, sitting in front of the wood-burning fireplace and soaking in the atmosphere.

 

Silver City was a very interesting town, and we would like to come back for a longer visit someday soon.

A Couple of Days in the National Forest

After leaving Mike's cabin, Julia and I hitched up and drove southeast for about 45 minutes into the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest (say that three times fast).  

I've stayed at Boulder Lake campground before, but Julia has not. Most sites are reservation only, but some of the less popular sites are set aside for first come, first serve.   Except for the lakefront sites, most of the campground is well-spaced.  There are showers and a dump station.  

We enjoyed a couple of relaxing days here. 

 

Lake Life

Mike and I have known each other since we were 18-year-old freshmen at UW-Madison.  At Spring Break, we drove my old VW Bug to Daytona with the plan to trade transportation for space on someone's hotel room carpet.  It worked for the most part, except for a night or two on the beach, which I learned wasn't as comfortable as I imagined.  

Mike's favorite story from that trip is when the car keys fell out of my pocket during one of those overnights on the sand.  We didn't really have a Plan B so we started kicking up sand from around where I slept.  Somehow, I managed to kick up the car keys to our mutual surprise.  Luck sometimes comes to the young and foolish.

I lost touch with many of my college friends over the years.  Mike and I reconnected through a Lodi friend who was someone that Mike worked and socialized with.  Mike and his wife Kathy lived in Madison, but sold that house and built a retirement log cabin on a northern Wisconsin lake where the winter is long, and summer is brief.

 

We had a great time, hanging out and telling stories of the old days.  Mike took us out on his pontoon boat where we slowly cruised for several hours.

Mike, me, and Brad

 

Fran, Kathy, and Julia

 

That night, Mike grilled up a big slab of flank steak and later made (from scratch) strawberry shortcake with whipped cream.

 

With Brad, Fran, Mike, Kathy, and Mike's son Robb staying in the cabin, we elected to bring the Scamp along.  We found an RV park about a mile from Mike's place.   We had some concerns about what it might be like.  There were no pictures or reviews on the internet, and the campground manager said that she had plenty of space on what would normally be a busy summer weekend with great weather. 

When we pulled up, we saw a trailer park on one side and tiny crowded cabins on the other side.  Our hearts sank, "Oh, no."  But a hand-painted sign directed us to the campground at the rear of the property on a deeply rutted gravel driveway.  Much to our surprise, it was kinda nice.  It took awhile to get level, but there was lots of space, and only a few seasonal campers, the nearest of which was more than a baseball throw away.  And it was quiet.

From the Scamp's back window

Reconnecting

During the last couple of weeks, Julia and I reconnected with college friends who we haven't seen in many years.  

We missed the wedding of Brad and Fran's daughter when Julia and I were sick with covid.  To make up for it, we decided to go for a hike at New Glarus Woods State Park.

Brad is more of a golfer than a hiker.  I'm not sure we convinced him that hiking was very similar to golf, except no waiting, crowds, clubs, or balls.  After hiking on a hot and buggy day, we found something that we all could enjoy at Bailey's Run Vineyard. 

Later, we played games at Brad and Fran's house in Verona.  It was there that their big dog, Harper, apparently decided that she did not like Callie's fragrance on my leg, so she bit me in the thigh--without breaking the skin.  Brad's theory was that Harper didn't like men in hats.  Okay, hats off for me.

It was the weirdest thing.  I haven't been bit by a dog in fifty years.  Julia calls me the Dog Whisperer.  Harper didn't stay mad long, coming over under the dining room table and laying her head at my feet.  Maybe it was the hat.

Brad and Fran were getting together the following weekend with another couple that we've known for decades and suggested that we all get together at Mike and Kathy's retirement home on a northern lake.    We've had a standing invitation to visit them, so we got the okay to tag along.  We would bring the Scamp to stay in.    That trip will be the subject of the next post. 

I Gotta Move Out of This Dorm

 

Julia and I planned to head up north for a few weeks.  A friend's son was getting married tomorrow in Ashland, Wisconsin.  The plan was to stay at a small campground on Lake Superior for a week after the wedding and then head up into Michigan without a plan for another two weeks. 

Covid struck the wedding party, and before you know it, the wedding was cancelled on very short notice.   Then Justin called.  It seems that he misunderstood his summer dorm move-out day and needed to be moved today instead of the end of August.  He appealed to his housing authorities for an extension, but there was no joy.  Justin got to move out of his dorm now.  

The thing about complete disability is that you collect more and more stuff, especially of the heavy, expensive medical kind.  And let me remind you that Justin is not able to participate in this process.  It was a bear of a day, and Justin's motorized hospital bed did its best to kill Julia and I today in the struggle to move it a few hundred yards across the road and up an elevator to a different dorm room, which was down a long and winding hallway.  

With any luck, this will not be Justin's last move this year. He is ready to take a break from college and move to the Madison area.  Justin found a roommate and a new apartment that he can afford.  The caregiver piece of the puzzle is also looking promising.   The building won't be completed until October 1st.  Lots of balls up in the air to juggle, including some governmental red tape, but there is blue sky emerging amongst the clouds for Justin and for us.  We would love to have him closer to home and still living his best life as an independent adult.