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.

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.

Summer at Camp, a Haiku

Summertime at camp
Swim, sauna, cudhigi, sleep
not a bad day, eh?

Camp Bacon

I've eaten many a pound of bacon in my 30 years, but no bacon has ever matched camp bacon. Even the finest peppered side of the most prized hog from the Black Forest can't match the succulence of bacon prepared in a Casey Lake skillet.

Now, I can't divine *exactly* why this is the case, but I think there are a multitude of factors that combine to make for the perfect gourmet bacon experience. These factors, in no particular order, are:
1.) A hot sauna the night before said bacon is prepared,
2.) A good sleep in the Fresh Air,
3.) The wind in the pines,
4.) Frying bacon in a skillet, allowing the grease to add to the flavor
5.) Good company

Occasionally, in places other than Casey Lake, two or sometimes three of these factors will combine to make for some fine bacon, but in no place do they all so consistently come together to produce the consummate dining experience that is Camp Bacon.

*****

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