Spending time at Casey Lake is wonderful no matter what the weather is like, but when it's a sunny day, around 82 degrees with a light breeze, it's hard to beat. The summer of 2009 so far has been fall-like with lots of clouds, cool temps and wind. According to Meteorologist Karl Bohnak of WLUC-TV6, "June was over two degrees below average, while July is close to six degrees below normal. Secondly, due to the strong temperature contrast between here and areas to the south, strong low-pressure areas have developed close by. These lows have produced a lot of wind." Let's hope that August brings summer warmth and calm breezes!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Saturday, July 12, 2008
ROAD TO CAMP
The trip to camp was definitely on lesser traveled roads in 1946. Even County Road 581 was still gravel. Beyond Perch Lake the road was a typical 2-rut logging trail. From National Mine travel time was 45 or more minutes. At first we went by way of Sagola Lake, the final portion being an old logging railroad grade. Eventually Pa tried the road toward Republic but heading south past Skinnies Lake. This was not as narrow & curvy and is now the much preferred route.
Speed wasn’t important then and we passed the time watching for deer, blueberries (Ma), certain scenic areas like the double 90˚ turn south of Helen Lake, ponds, spots wide enough to pull over in case of oncoming traffic, etc. The time it took to reach camp gave one the feeling of having traveled a long way (as on a vacation) and really being way in the bush. You know, away from civilization.
Besides the usual equipment for tire changing and repair, it was wise to carry an axe and saw to remove fallen trees and low-hanging branches. Also a shovel to fill in deeper holes that formed by traffic after rain. The road gradually improved with the much increased traffic to the new camps. I don’t remember when, but the county began to add gravel to bad spots and eventually began to grade the road. Now one doesn’t need to look for spots to pass oncoming traffic, although caution is still needed.
The biggest modernization occurred when the Channel 6 TV antenna was planted west of Perch Lake from its site on ‘signal hill’ by the Tilden Mine. The road was widened and paved from Perch Lake to the ELF station. This also brought electricity and telephones as far as Casey Lake. My young nephews bemoaned the modernization. Part of the adventure of going to camp was the old road and gas lights.
Speed wasn’t important then and we passed the time watching for deer, blueberries (Ma), certain scenic areas like the double 90˚ turn south of Helen Lake, ponds, spots wide enough to pull over in case of oncoming traffic, etc. The time it took to reach camp gave one the feeling of having traveled a long way (as on a vacation) and really being way in the bush. You know, away from civilization.
Besides the usual equipment for tire changing and repair, it was wise to carry an axe and saw to remove fallen trees and low-hanging branches. Also a shovel to fill in deeper holes that formed by traffic after rain. The road gradually improved with the much increased traffic to the new camps. I don’t remember when, but the county began to add gravel to bad spots and eventually began to grade the road. Now one doesn’t need to look for spots to pass oncoming traffic, although caution is still needed.
The biggest modernization occurred when the Channel 6 TV antenna was planted west of Perch Lake from its site on ‘signal hill’ by the Tilden Mine. The road was widened and paved from Perch Lake to the ELF station. This also brought electricity and telephones as far as Casey Lake. My young nephews bemoaned the modernization. Part of the adventure of going to camp was the old road and gas lights.
PLANNING
PLANNING
The camp pa would build for our new lakeshore lot would be log construction. I don’t remember that there was any discussion about alternatives. In my recollection, that was the way houses, barns, saunas, & hunting camps were usually built by immigrant Finns. Grandpa’s house was log, later covered by metal siding. When pa obtained a piece of property for our home from grandpa in the 1930’s, the first building was a log barn. All of the buildings on grandpa’s farm (except the privy) were log construction. The newest building, a garage, was built with 2 x 4’s and boards.
A log camp would not be as easy to build as the now standard stud frame construction. But this didn’t dismay pa. He had learned the technique during his youth; witness all the log buildings at grandpa’s (animal barn, hay barn, wood barn, sauna, blacksmith shop, summer kitchen, and a garage). Of course I was tickled pink that we would have a log camp and was eager to help plan the layout. Given pencil and paper I had always doodled house plans rather than animals, cars or planes. Here was my opportunity to work on a real project.
It would be rectangular so you’ll ask, “How much planning could that take?” Just decide on the dimensions. In the ‘40s camps were still a modest size so pa thought 16 x 24 feet would be sufficient. Keep in mind, he was the one that would cut, move and work on the logs. But a room layout was needed to know where to cut window and door openings. This was right up my alley. I first divided the rectangle almost in half; the larger end for daytime activities and the smaller one for sleeping. It would be built on the highest part of the lot overlooking the lake. The long wall would be parallel to the lake for the view although the hillside was covered with tall jack pines and not much water was visible.
The larger south end would be for cooking, eating and socializing.(the cook stove, wood/coal heater, sink counter & cupboard on the east (woods) side, leaving space for a long table on the west (lake) side). The beds were on the north end, concealed by a bamboo blind that hung from a log beam tying the walls together. There were two entry doors, one in the middle of the south wall directly under the gable peak and a second on the wall facing the lake to enter a future sun porch. The result was a camp that could sleep 8 people on 2 double deck double beds and was roomy enough to cook for and feed a crowd. I was proud of the plan.
In DISCOVERY and PLANNING I have been writing about the early history of my family’s camp (later named Hill Top Haven) at Casey Lake. This may interest other Casey Lakers but my goal is to document it for the descendants of Gust and Eda Hill. My future postings in Carol’s Casey Lake Chronicle blog will continue in this line.
The camp pa would build for our new lakeshore lot would be log construction. I don’t remember that there was any discussion about alternatives. In my recollection, that was the way houses, barns, saunas, & hunting camps were usually built by immigrant Finns. Grandpa’s house was log, later covered by metal siding. When pa obtained a piece of property for our home from grandpa in the 1930’s, the first building was a log barn. All of the buildings on grandpa’s farm (except the privy) were log construction. The newest building, a garage, was built with 2 x 4’s and boards.
A log camp would not be as easy to build as the now standard stud frame construction. But this didn’t dismay pa. He had learned the technique during his youth; witness all the log buildings at grandpa’s (animal barn, hay barn, wood barn, sauna, blacksmith shop, summer kitchen, and a garage). Of course I was tickled pink that we would have a log camp and was eager to help plan the layout. Given pencil and paper I had always doodled house plans rather than animals, cars or planes. Here was my opportunity to work on a real project.
It would be rectangular so you’ll ask, “How much planning could that take?” Just decide on the dimensions. In the ‘40s camps were still a modest size so pa thought 16 x 24 feet would be sufficient. Keep in mind, he was the one that would cut, move and work on the logs. But a room layout was needed to know where to cut window and door openings. This was right up my alley. I first divided the rectangle almost in half; the larger end for daytime activities and the smaller one for sleeping. It would be built on the highest part of the lot overlooking the lake. The long wall would be parallel to the lake for the view although the hillside was covered with tall jack pines and not much water was visible.
The larger south end would be for cooking, eating and socializing.(the cook stove, wood/coal heater, sink counter & cupboard on the east (woods) side, leaving space for a long table on the west (lake) side). The beds were on the north end, concealed by a bamboo blind that hung from a log beam tying the walls together. There were two entry doors, one in the middle of the south wall directly under the gable peak and a second on the wall facing the lake to enter a future sun porch. The result was a camp that could sleep 8 people on 2 double deck double beds and was roomy enough to cook for and feed a crowd. I was proud of the plan.
In DISCOVERY and PLANNING I have been writing about the early history of my family’s camp (later named Hill Top Haven) at Casey Lake. This may interest other Casey Lakers but my goal is to document it for the descendants of Gust and Eda Hill. My future postings in Carol’s Casey Lake Chronicle blog will continue in this line.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Camp Coffee
Isn’t it the same as breakfast coffee at home? Not at all.
Some background: When I was a youth most families that I knew didn’t own electric coffee makers or electric ranges. Coffee was cooked on a wood-fired stove in an aluminum or enamel coffee pot. Ma usually didn’t even use the percolator stem and basket that came with new pots; just more stuff to wash. She measured so many spoonfuls of coffee directly into the water and cooked it at a rolling boil until a good coffee aroma wafted throughout the kitchen. This coffee wasn’t the crystal clear beverage later generations have become accustomed to. It had an opacity that signaled a rich flavor. This “muddiness” persisted even when the grounds had settled to the bottom of the pot. The coffee could be poured through a strainer to catch the finer grounds (usually done when serving company). When the pot was emptied, water was swirled around in it and tossed out into the garden with the grounds.
Of course, coffee making has changed with the advent of automatic drip, set-and-forget coffee makers, with timers even, for today’s hurried life style. But this is not for camp. I still hold to the method that harks back to a less harried time. It almost enforces leisureliness; fill the enamel pot with good cold well water, measure the coffee with a teaspoon, stir it into the water to wet the grounds, put it on the burner (the wood stove is not always fired up in the summertime), bring it to a boil, stir it again, inhale the developing aroma, mmmmm, boil it for a few minutes, take the pot off of the heat, allow the grounds to settle. Now pour the steaming brew into a camp cup, sit down and relax. Slowly sip the hot liquid, enjoy the fragrant steam! Listen to the sounds of nature. That’s living, camp style. It just can’t be duplicated at home.
Some background: When I was a youth most families that I knew didn’t own electric coffee makers or electric ranges. Coffee was cooked on a wood-fired stove in an aluminum or enamel coffee pot. Ma usually didn’t even use the percolator stem and basket that came with new pots; just more stuff to wash. She measured so many spoonfuls of coffee directly into the water and cooked it at a rolling boil until a good coffee aroma wafted throughout the kitchen. This coffee wasn’t the crystal clear beverage later generations have become accustomed to. It had an opacity that signaled a rich flavor. This “muddiness” persisted even when the grounds had settled to the bottom of the pot. The coffee could be poured through a strainer to catch the finer grounds (usually done when serving company). When the pot was emptied, water was swirled around in it and tossed out into the garden with the grounds.
Of course, coffee making has changed with the advent of automatic drip, set-and-forget coffee makers, with timers even, for today’s hurried life style. But this is not for camp. I still hold to the method that harks back to a less harried time. It almost enforces leisureliness; fill the enamel pot with good cold well water, measure the coffee with a teaspoon, stir it into the water to wet the grounds, put it on the burner (the wood stove is not always fired up in the summertime), bring it to a boil, stir it again, inhale the developing aroma, mmmmm, boil it for a few minutes, take the pot off of the heat, allow the grounds to settle. Now pour the steaming brew into a camp cup, sit down and relax. Slowly sip the hot liquid, enjoy the fragrant steam! Listen to the sounds of nature. That’s living, camp style. It just can’t be duplicated at home.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Discovery
I remember yet when dad saw an ad in the Mining Journal advertising lots for sale on Casey Lake. That was the summer of 1946, probably August. Up to this time there was no lack of lakes to swim in. Two or 3 families regularly picnicked ‘out south’ on summer weekends, usually in conjunction with berry picking. The promise of going to a lake to have our lunch when the berry pails were full was a great incentive to us kids. Big Perch, Little Perch, Big Bass Lake, Little Bass Lake, Lake Dewey and Heart Lake were some we usually ended up at. But the thought of owning your own camp on a lake was almost beyond belief.
The writer of the ad included a date when he would be at Casey Lake to show lots to potential buyers. I was happy to realize that pa showed interest in actually buying lakefront property But where was this unknown lake? I had never heard of it. Of course Pa had a good idea having hunted and fished all over ‘the south’ in his youth. On the Marquette County map I could see it was outside the berry picking ‘south’ I was familiar with. When the day finally arrived, ma packed picnic lunch and the blackened lard pail with a bail for boiling coffee over a fire.
After we passed Perch Lake and Schmeltz’s camp it was a new adventure for at least 3 of us. The road was the typical bush road we were accustomed to on our Sunday drives, but probably lesser traveled. In places the banks rose above the road and some turns were pretty tight. The roads were strange to me but pa seemed to know where he was. In those days we didn’t go towards Skinnies Lake but turned south on a road that passed by Sagola Lake and came out on the now familiar road to Casey Lake south of Helen Lake. I’m sure that ma kept her eye peeled for blueberry bushes in this new territory.
Finally a lake appeared right along the roadside and a simple sign on a post proclaimed it to be Casey Lake. We parked farther on and a gentleman soon appeared. The entire lake shore was divided into lots and he invited us to explore them all. Many lots were on hillsides, or had marshy shores. It seemed the lots with the nicest shore, and the most accessible, were on the end where we first viewed the lake. The big objection was that the road passed between the lots and the lake. But Pa was thinking ahead and visualized the road rerouted toward the rear of the lot, connecting with an existing road and back towards the lake. With this in mind he told Mr. Uren, the seller, that he would buy two 100-foot lots on the hill across the road from the lake. Nobody had selected these lots yet, most likely because of the road location. The sale was sealed on September 17, 1946 at the Hotel Northland (now the Landmark) in Marquette where Mr. Charles Uren was headquartered. I remember sitting in the car parked on the street while business was transacted. Pa said they celebrated the occasion with a shot of brandy.
The writer of the ad included a date when he would be at Casey Lake to show lots to potential buyers. I was happy to realize that pa showed interest in actually buying lakefront property But where was this unknown lake? I had never heard of it. Of course Pa had a good idea having hunted and fished all over ‘the south’ in his youth. On the Marquette County map I could see it was outside the berry picking ‘south’ I was familiar with. When the day finally arrived, ma packed picnic lunch and the blackened lard pail with a bail for boiling coffee over a fire.
After we passed Perch Lake and Schmeltz’s camp it was a new adventure for at least 3 of us. The road was the typical bush road we were accustomed to on our Sunday drives, but probably lesser traveled. In places the banks rose above the road and some turns were pretty tight. The roads were strange to me but pa seemed to know where he was. In those days we didn’t go towards Skinnies Lake but turned south on a road that passed by Sagola Lake and came out on the now familiar road to Casey Lake south of Helen Lake. I’m sure that ma kept her eye peeled for blueberry bushes in this new territory.
Finally a lake appeared right along the roadside and a simple sign on a post proclaimed it to be Casey Lake. We parked farther on and a gentleman soon appeared. The entire lake shore was divided into lots and he invited us to explore them all. Many lots were on hillsides, or had marshy shores. It seemed the lots with the nicest shore, and the most accessible, were on the end where we first viewed the lake. The big objection was that the road passed between the lots and the lake. But Pa was thinking ahead and visualized the road rerouted toward the rear of the lot, connecting with an existing road and back towards the lake. With this in mind he told Mr. Uren, the seller, that he would buy two 100-foot lots on the hill across the road from the lake. Nobody had selected these lots yet, most likely because of the road location. The sale was sealed on September 17, 1946 at the Hotel Northland (now the Landmark) in Marquette where Mr. Charles Uren was headquartered. I remember sitting in the car parked on the street while business was transacted. Pa said they celebrated the occasion with a shot of brandy.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Cudhigi
Cudhigi, like a pasty, is not something that is easy to find outside the upper Midwest. If I ask someone here in Denver where I can get some cudhigi, I'm usually met with blank stares from anyone not so enlightened as to have lived in (or in close proximity to) the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It's a rare treat that I get to indulge in once or twice a year, usually at camp.
Sure, there are Italian Delis around Denver metro that serve a "Spicy Italian Hamburger", but they ain't an official "cudhigi". I couldn't remember truly is if there was an "h" in cudhigi. I assumed that the word had an h in it because that's how it sounds in my mind in the regional dialect that is yoopanese. But I wasn't sure, so after writing the haiku I googled "cudhigi", "cudagi", and "cudigi". The latter term turned up the most results, a whopping three pages with 36 hits, most of which are language variants of Yahoo! answers for "what is a cudigi"? "Cudhigi" turned up two pages with 21 hits and "cudagi" zero. That's five pages total with 57 hits, many of which are the replicated "what is a cudigi?" question.
Compare that to "Spicy Italian Hamburger" (579,000 hits) or "Spicy Italian Sausage" (1,760,000 hits), and you can see how truly special a cudhigi is. While I can get plenty of Spicy Italian Hamburger out here, I have not yet come across a place to get a cudhigi. It's one of those things where you have to know a guy who knows a guy, etc.
While my quick and dirty search engine study didn't get me any closer to the correct spelling of cudhigi, it did bring me closer to just how special the cudhigi is as treat that I get to enjoy when I come home to the UP.
Have a good weekend campers.
Sure, there are Italian Delis around Denver metro that serve a "Spicy Italian Hamburger", but they ain't an official "cudhigi". I couldn't remember truly is if there was an "h" in cudhigi. I assumed that the word had an h in it because that's how it sounds in my mind in the regional dialect that is yoopanese. But I wasn't sure, so after writing the haiku I googled "cudhigi", "cudagi", and "cudigi". The latter term turned up the most results, a whopping three pages with 36 hits, most of which are language variants of Yahoo! answers for "what is a cudigi"? "Cudhigi" turned up two pages with 21 hits and "cudagi" zero. That's five pages total with 57 hits, many of which are the replicated "what is a cudigi?" question.
Compare that to "Spicy Italian Hamburger" (579,000 hits) or "Spicy Italian Sausage" (1,760,000 hits), and you can see how truly special a cudhigi is. While I can get plenty of Spicy Italian Hamburger out here, I have not yet come across a place to get a cudhigi. It's one of those things where you have to know a guy who knows a guy, etc.
While my quick and dirty search engine study didn't get me any closer to the correct spelling of cudhigi, it did bring me closer to just how special the cudhigi is as treat that I get to enjoy when I come home to the UP.
Have a good weekend campers.
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