Sturgeon Rodeo!

Behold the noble sturgeon, largest fish to be found in the waters of Wisconsin.

This picture is of a gigantic specimen.  But recently I was involved in a research trip with the Department of Natural Resources that aimed to study these prehistoric armour plated fishies.  And, no, we did not come across any that were that size.  (The state record was 212 pounds and 7 feet long).

We were studying the return of sturgeon to a small river where a dam had been taken out, allowing them to come back to waters they had not seen in nearly a century.

So how do you run down large, uncooperative fish in rapidly moving water?

One method involves spotting them in the shallows, setting a net and driving them into it.

This does not look like ideal canoe safety, but life vests were worn by all hands and the water was not deep.  Plus, hey, Science.

The fish were not behaving, which is only to be expected.  On a day of intermittent cloud cover we lacked the proper light conditions to visually track them and nudge them netwards.  Also, frustratingly we had three big ones just barge right through the nets.  Back up plan?

Line fishing the deep holes where sturgeon hang out.  Three Angling Adepts, and myself, attempting to catch a specific and very suspicious species.

Of course much fun was had catching all sorts of other things.  Given the bottom fishing tactics employed this was "Trash Fishing for Science".

This I'm told is a Golden Redhorse.  One of an assortment of similar fish generically referred to as suckers.  Granted, it looks dim witted but they are a marker for clean water quality.  Along with a half dozen other species we encountered all the weights and lengths were recorded for future study.

How ironic that with this level of fishing expertise on display the only sturgeon actually brought in that day was by yours truly, a retired duffer who many years does not even wet a line.

By sturgeon standards this is a small scrawny adolescent.  We saw multiple fish three times this size but were unable to corral them.  Still for research purposes this is first rate.  You want to radio tag them young.  Female sturgeon can live up to 150 years so in theory this one will be studied long, long after this crew of Science Fishermen has gone around that final bend in the river.

A Cave at Cave Lake?

I am a fan of frivolous side trips.  You just never know what you'll find.  When planning a Boundary Waters trip I scrutinize the map.  Will it be colder on Frost Lake?  Are the bugs worse on the Louse River?  What demands will be made on me at Extortion Creek?  (For the record the answers are:  No, maybe, and none I could determine).

So when I saw a Cave Lake not far from our main camping site I just had to go there.  To see if there was a cave there of course.

The nice thing about day trips is you can pack very light.  Pretty much just the canoe. And these new Kevlar babies don't weigh much.

Tuscarora is the outfitter we worked with.  Nice folks.  I assume they are the Official Outfitter of Blue Man Group.

Cave Lake is a picturesque place.

A panoramic view from a rocky hillside.

Thick, luxuriant moss.  Too bad there is no campsite here, it would be delightful to sleep on.

But where's the cave?  

Caves are not common in the hard rock geology of this part of the world.  So I figured at most we might find some tumbled down pile of stones with a niche among them.  But no, not even that.

Until right at the portage one of our party noticed this!

Yes, it does look like a cave but inspect closely.  See that leaf at the cave entry?  This "cave" is about five inches tall and probably home to some sort of grumpy rodent.

Forty Seven Years in the Boundary Waters

When I got an invite to tag along on a Boundary Waters Canoe Area trip recently they did have the common sense to ask if I had ever been there before.  Well, yes I had.  In fact my first trip there was before all but one of the other members of our party had even been born.

Forty seven years ago.....1971.

I was a Boy Scout, member of Troop 8 on the north side of Minneapolis.  The Scouts at that time had their own canoe base near Ely, and going on one of these jaunts was kind of a big deal.  You needed a certain number to make up an ideal party so a couple of us that were on the young side got tapped to go.   

The BWCA* was a wilder place then.  No Kevlar canoes, they were aluminum and while indestructible they were darned heavy.  Each canoe had a crew of three.  One paddler front and aft and a "duffer" who sat in the middle.  We younger scouts mostly got this duty.

Portages between lakes were naturally done in one operation.  One carried the canoe, one carried a pack with food and gear, one carried a pack with personal stuff - clothes, sleeping bags etc - for three.  On our recent trip we did not come anywhere close to this enviable level of efficiency.

I suppose I've been to the Boundary Waters a dozen times.  But no trip rivaled this one for sheer ambition.  We went way, way up into the Canadian side of the wilderness.  Up so far that you still saw crumbling remains of early logging camps.  Up so far that our final destination was on a little lake where there was a container with a message book.  It was labeled, for no reason I can recall, MOBBS.  And the prior entry to ours was several months back.

Looking over the photo brings back memories.  I of course am the good looking kid in the front row right side.  Our guide was a fellow named Bill Bebee from Texas.  The adult who came along on the trip was Mr. Day.  I remember him being a WW II vet who worked as a butcher at the local market.  His two sons came along (one seems to not be in the picture).  Their names are long forgotten, I think they were just known as Big Day and Little Day.  Also on the trip were Big Riemer and Little Riemer, Garry Kowalski - who I remember considering the funniest person ever to walk the face of the earth - and a few others with less distinct pictures.  Rob, who I stayed in touch with for a number of years. He developed a drinking problem.  The big tall guy who more than anything resembles a Garry Larson cartoon of a boy scout.  I think his name was England.

The Boundary Waters experience has changed a lot in nearly a half century.  My recollection is that on the Scout trip we had canvas tents.  Probably US Army surplus but modified so that you could use your canoe paddles as tent poles.  The diet was monotonous.  Lots of oatmeal.  Every night we cooked a concoction called "bannock" for lunch the next day.  We paddled every day, all day apart from a half day rest up at our final destination, the enigmatic MOBBS lake.**

In the 21st century the equipment has gotten much lighter and generally better.  But there seems to be a need to carry a lot more "comforts of home" along.  Many of the other travelers we saw - and there were a lot more than in 1971 - were older folks moving at a leisurely pace with heavily laden canoes.  This is neither good nor bad, just different.  Although I can point to a few things that are great upgrades.  Despite having more padding than I did at 14 the ground has become a very unpleasant thing to sleep on.  The new "Thermarest" mattresses are very comfortable and don't go flat after a day or two like the old ones.  Much recommended.

As to other changes I can report that I am able to portage a lot more now than I could then.  Mostly my more stubborn adult nature I suspect.

It's not as if there have been any other substantive changes over the years....

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* It did not formally become the BWCA until 1978.  I think it was just the Superior National Forest in 1971.

** Possibly Bent Pine Lake.

Pregnant Trees?

While tramping about looking for the CCC camp at Gooseberry Falls I was distracted by several odd looking trees..

Weird, no?  Of course it is some kind of pine tree malady, but it really looked to me as if the trees were pregnant.

And because my brain works this way it got me thinking about Tolkien.

Tolkien created many fantastic creatures but none more exotic than the Ents.  Big sentient ambulatory trees.  You probably remember them from the movies.

Tolkien was always tossing in little details that made Middle Earth such a believable world.  One conversation with Treebeard the Ent mentions in passing that the Entwives - female Ents - have all wandered off and not been seen for a long time.


Well, while not being sure what the gestation period for an Ent actually is, perhaps the Entwives have good reason to not return home.

Just some Saturday morning musings regards tramping around in the woods....

CCC Camp Gooseberry Falls Minnesota

On any trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area the classic stopping off point is Gooseberry Falls State Park.  Rustic paths, a nice visitor center and naturally some picturesque water falls.

On our recent voyage north we did stop off there, and I discovered something that I really should have already known....it was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, and there was a sizable CCC camp at the site.  

The CCC built a lot of things out of cement and stone....starting with the supports of the park entry sign.

The biggest project was a retaining wall designed to look like a castle.  This picture does not do it justice, it is 300 feet long.

Some of the old CCC built structures are gone, others remain.  Here is an ice house.

Of course I had to poke about and find evidence of the actual camp, not just the park structures that the CCC boys were there to build.  It takes a little doing, but once you adjust your eye the main streets of the camp are visible as areas with less in the way of mature trees.  Then you just start looking for traces...

A sizable foundation with a ramp.

A smaller, more subtle foundation.

This looks like some kind of boiler or hot water heater.  The CCC camp was in operation from 1934 until 1941.  The next year most of the camp buildings were intentionally burned down.  This might be a newer relic.  

Some sort of drain, a ceramic pipe heading down into the ground.

Remarkably the CCC era is now far enough in the past to qualify as archaeology.  This 2008 article describes excavations of the CCC structures by members of a modern revival of CCC, the Minnesota Conservation Corps.  Given the mere 66 year gap from abandonment to excavation it is quite possible that a few elderly gents might have wandered by and told the kids they were digging in the wrong places!

A nice map of the park highlighting the CCC built structures can be found HERE.

Boundless Ambitions

I'm just back from a trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, that vast wilderness along the Minnesota-Canada border.  No motor craft, no roads, you travel with what you can carry across rocky portages.

It was my first trip there since my kids were young.  

Great weather and company.  

More on this over the next couple of posts, but carrying a wet, heavy pack and a canoe at my age did get me thinking about ambitions.

I am not as ambitious as this guy:

About the size and weight of the lure he hit on - managing to get all three hooks - he would be an unimpressive entrant for Chub Fest.  ( btw, no Chub Fest '18 due to schedule conflicts.)

Perhaps on a good day I could manage the ambition levels of these entrepreneurs in a town near the entry to the Wilderness.

Live Minnows, Leeches and Ciscos.  Maps, Ice and all other outdoor necessities.  Small town family industry with a giant walleyed pike on the roof.

Shuffling Through the Halls of Academe

On retirement I had plans of going back to school on a part time basis.  And I have, albeit a bit more part time than I'd imagined.  Each of the last two falls I took a class or two at the local Tech College.  I learned things....but its not as if a bit of dabbling will ever make me into a machinist or a welder.

This fall I'm planning something a bit different.  At my current level of antiquity tuition is free both at Tech College and at the University.  With some restrictions of course.  Consider it Bucky Badger's thank you for 33 years of paying taxes.

I've decided to go back to Uni this fall.  

I'm keeping my ambitions manageable, the goal after all is not to get another degree, or to do this full time.  Just to learn a few useful things.

So I'm going to take German classes.

Now I did take a year of German in high school, and either a semester or a year - can't recall which - in college.  This plus some measure of aptitude from having Germanic, kraut infused DNA has given me what I consider "travel proficiency".  By which I mean being able to ask basic questions, acquire food and drink, know in a general sense what is going on around me.

But I'd like to up the game a bit.

It would be nice to attain conversational level.  I anticipate a few challenges of course.  My hearing is not as great as it once was.  Perhaps a side effect of that machining hobby.  And most Germans have English skills that they are always willing to deploy when I struggle.

But still, one can always improve.  I had to take a test evaluating my current level of proficiency.  It was interesting....they confiscate your phone before parking you in a little testing alcove.  Much of it was reading dense paragraphs and answering questions on them.  One was about whales beaching themselves in the North Sea.  Another was about a novel that eerily predicted a lot of details of the subsequent Titanic disaster. Nautical jargon is oddly comprehensible to me....

(Disturbing update.  I scored well enough to warrant placement in German 201. Not sure I want to go that route. Should have thrown the test I suppose....)

On a side note, I think college has changed a lot since I was last a student in the 1970s.  I may need a new posting category for this.....

The Other Saint Nicholas

Hall Mark cards has most every occasion covered.  So heck, maybe they have one for an event we celebrated recently.  Last kid out of college and working a job with benefits.  Woo Hoo!

In any event it involved a move across the state, a U Haul trailer and assorted domestic logistics.

The apartment involved is probably 1950s vintage and has a feature no longer seen....a telephone niche.  Yes, once "phones" were tethered to a cord and it made sense to build a little alcove for them to live in.

No further such use being needed the kid set up a shrine to peculiar film star Nicholas Cage.  Because....well, I'm not quite sure why.

But it looks good.

Brew from Scratch Update

Regards the Brew from Scratch Project, well, best laid plans....

Here's the hops crop.  Pretty wimpy.

A back yard project got out of hand.  Never plan to just replace part of a decades old fence.  You quickly find out that the whole thing has rotten posts and needs replacement.  And trying to preserve hops vines while tearing down a fence, rebuilding it and replacing them, well, it is not easy.

In other news most of my barley crop was eaten by critters.  Deer are the prime suspects but a particularly shifty family of wood chucks are also known to be operating in the area.  Whatever the assailant, they did not miss much.

Crop failure.  Man, I feel like a real farmer.

Civic Responsibility - 2018 version

We must be really civic minded here in Wisconsin.  We seem to have more elections than most places.  Today was a primary in advance of the upcoming mid terms.

So I voted.  I pretty much always do.  The drill is routine.  It's always the same place, a meeting room at the library.  Three of the four election judges are long time friends.  I sign my name.  I show my ID.  I vote. 

Then it is off to run errands.  At Target a talkative checkout clerk said he liked my sticker:

He said he thought that everybody should vote and started to tell me about his 18 year old sister who had difficulty voting despite having proper ID.  He did not get too far into the tale - I imagine it had something to do with current residency address - because he was after all ringing up my purchases.

Then he asked me for my ID.

I suppose I should have considered that he was kidding, although he seemed an earnest young sort who would have difficulty pulling off a subtle joke.  And it is also not wise to potentially annoy your customer base.

No, because I was buying a four pack of beer (Lazy Monk Citrus Heffeweisse!) he said that store policy required me to show ID.

So regarding the requirement to show identification I submit the question.  Was his sister, perhaps attending college or some such, more likely to be voting in the wrong district or am I perhaps more likely to be trying to purchase alcohol ahead of my 21st birthday?

I know, I know, he's just a guy doing his job.  But he is also a member of the young, upcoming generation who seems to find the concept of true irony incomprehensible.

Robot Orca

Our FIRST Robotics team is going to be in the town parade again.  It is a nice way to get "seen" and as our build HQ is right down town it is not too difficult logistically.

Last year we ran the competition robot and had it chase "ChairBot" around.  It was well received.  But this year two differences.

We are not running the competition machine.  Asphalt is rather hard on wheels and bearings.  So it will ride on a trailer.  And we are going to actually fit in with the theme of the parade which this year is "Under the Sea".

So we built a robot killer whale.

The basic frame.  The crank device near the back makes the whale's tail flip up and down.  The worrying red gas can holds 2.5 gallons of water.  The hose runs from the tank, which contains a small but powerful pump, so the Orca can spray water about ten feet up and ten feet backwards.

The electronics and mechanical work were pretty straightforward, this is a build crew of veterans.  Putting the covering over the wire frame required an artistic touch....well, they did a pretty good job.  The wire is garden fencing.  The fabric is thin sheets of foam usually used to protect machinery during shipping.  We also incorporated pipe from an earlier climbing frame and an early version control board built by my middle school robotics group with help from my high school team.

You can't see the tail well, it is clear plastic and will be painted along with the rest of the Orca.  But it looks reasonably whale like.

Here is Orcabot lined up for the parade.  Of course at the last minute various things decided to be difficult...

And here is one of the team members.  Old halloween costume parts just can't be passed up, even in 80 plus degree heat.

It would be unrealistic to imagine that a student project tossed together in a few hours would be perfect.  And Orca was not.  The tail flipper did not cooperate.  And the sizable tank of water was heavier than we figured based on half full trial runs.  With a brisk turn or two it came loose.  Good news....it did not tip over and drench the electronics.  Bad news...it disconnected the water spout.  But good news part two...it did not do so until after we passed the judges stand.

Looks like a fun campaign for the year ahead.  Lots of things that will work out.  Mostly.

Here's a short video of Orca.  It appears to be rotated 90 degrees.  Sorry, another minor glitch on a morning full of them.  Still pretty cool...

Polecat

Given my affection for under appreciated mammals and under used words it was just a matter of time before I got around to this one:  Polecat.

There is not even universal agreement on what a polecat is.  The cute critter seen above is a European polecat, also known as a black ferret.  But the term is also used on occasion to describe our old friend here in the US, the skunk.  They look a bit alike but are not actually related.

Polecat is an odd word, it combines cat, which is pretty self explanatory, with pole.  Pole is probably a variant of the French poule meaning poultry.  So a chicken eating catlike critter.  An alternative version would have its origins be related to another French word poulent, meaning "stinking".  While not as odoriferous as skunks these guys do have scent producing glands.  

The application of the European term polecat to the new black and white critter of North America was likely just a matter of early settlers, apparently Dutch, being somewhat unfamiliar with skunks and polecats.....yet knowing enough to not want to make a close up inspection!

Calling someone a polecat in the 21st century would seem to be a folksy, mild kind of insult.  It has about it a hint of hillbilly rascality.  But in earlier times this would be considered a grave insult, as polecat was a term used to describe promiscuous women. No less an authority that Shakespeare used it (in Merry Wives of Windsor):

   "Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, you polecat, you runyon!”

Now lest you consider it an injustice that polecats have been given a bad reputation in such matters, well, they've earned it.  They actually are pretty aggressively promiscuous.  Rather like their close relatives, mink, who oddly are not responsible for another synonym for female promiscuity: Minx.

And if you further consider it an injustice that these terms are reserved exclusively for females, when there by definition must be promiscuous males involved, well there you do have an excellent point.

That Meme I might have invented once......

I like to write.  I try to keep my banter interesting.  When I talk I sound about the same, although decades of spousal eyebrow raising has trained me to be a little "less" interesting in conversation.  Most of the time.  But it would still stand to reason that given enough years I would come up with some phrase - written or spoken - that would catch on as a commonplace saying....or a silly internet meme.

Well, maybe.

The movie Up is a marvelous piece of work.  Seeing it again recently I was reminded that it made popular the phrase "Cone of Shame" for the plastic collar that dogs are sometimes forced to wear.  But I was using this phrase long before the movie came out in 2009.  And I think, just maybe, I was the originator of the phrase Cone of Shame.



Here's the case.

1. We had a Golden Retriever/Yellow Lab mix named Rosy whose life was unfortunate. Long story, but she had to wear The Cone often.  She lived from 1996 to 2008.  I have a very solid memory of calling the device The Cone of Shame in that time period.

2. The main creative mind behind Up is a certain Pete Docter.  While it is possible that some other writer was involved I assume it was Mr. Docter who put "Cone of Shame" into the script.

3. And.....there is a shaky connection between Mr. Docter and myself.

It involves my Aunt Connie.  She is a musician of considerable talent and the long time director of a Youth Symphony that Pete Docter was in.  I think Connie also taught him in music lessons and later had his two sisters in the Symphony.  So....does it work to imagine that Connie, on one of her visits to rustic Wisconsin, heard me use the phrase, then repeated it in the hearing of the highly creative Pete Docter?

Ah....the dates are so close, so very close.

Pete Docter was hired right out of college, starting at Pixar in1989. He wrote the first draft of Up in 2004. Of course he was living in California then. But did he come back and visit old friends?  And, I suppose we could toss in one additional link to the chain....I figure one of the younger siblings?  Or perhaps I was even using this phrase earlier than I remember, with our previous mutt Bezoar the Wonder Dog.     

Alas, I have to concede the possibility that the meme went the other way.  Could Connie have gotten it from her precocious young student and mentioned it to me?  I suppose I should credit what is plausibly the real origin of "Cone of Shame".  Pixar actually hired a veterinarian/animal behaviour expert to consult on the film.  Ian Dunbar sounds like he has a very interesting career and it is possible that he and I independently came up with the phrase.

A small corner of Flanders Fields

Flanders, that flat and much fought over portion of Belgium, is dotted with immaculate cemeteries like this one near Wytschaete.

The horrific losses of the Great War had a major impact on how the warring nations viewed their casualties.  In England particularly, the terrible harrowing of an entire generation of the Empire's best was sobering.  Even before the war had ended there were plans being made that turned into the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.  One of the minds behind it was Rudyard Kipling, that most emphatic of Imperialists, whose only son, an 18 year lieutenant, lay dead in a lost and unmarked grave.

The cemeteries can be large or small.  Most are in rural locations as it was decided that the men should rest near where they fell.  In a radical move it was also decided that in death there would be no class distinctions. Officers and men all have the same grave stones.  Men from Britain and from all over the Empire rest together.  They are well maintained and humbling.

With that somber background I was rather unprepared to find this grave marker in this little cemetery near the Hill 80 dig.

The grave of a German corporal, one of 14 German graves among the total of 105.  One of the Germans was actually a sailor! 

So what gives?

German casualties were collected after the war and primarily buried in three large cemeteries dedicated specifically to that purpose.  But 1,105 Germans remain buried in 79 Allied cemeteries scattered across Belgium.  In many cases these casualties were men who died of their wounds while prisoners.  But In this cemetery, Torreken Farm Number One, all the German casualties died between April 10th and May 1st of 1918.  The German spring offensive started on April 9th and it seems that this existing Allied cemetery was in the captured territory and was simply used for new German casualties.

And how did a sailor end up as a casualty? 

That's a little harder to say.  There were sailors assigned to the German armies, they for instance operated the really big guns that were repurposed from naval projects once it became clear that long range ship construction was not a realistic option.  There were also "Marine Divisions" of German sailors assigned to holding the coastal portions of Belgium.  That seems fair, down near the sea Belgium was probably as much water as dirt, since the dike systems were destroyed in 1914 to slow the German advance.   

The grave marker for the sailor, Gottlieb Arndt, has the designation "Marine Howitzer Battery One" so I am assuming that he was a gunner assigned to land duty when victory at sea was no longer considered possible.

Bad feelings towards Germany were common after the World Wars, and may not entirely forgotten to this day.  So it is good to see that at least here and there a bit of common decency prevails. It would have been easy enough to disturb the rest of these German dead.  But it is not as if any of these young men had a part in the chain of bad decisions that made Flanders the site of four years of inhumane slaughter.

VFW Standing Guard

Many Veterans of Foreign Wars posts have military equipment parked out front.  Part decoration, part rememberance.  It is a tradition of long standing and there is a formal system by which the Post Commander can requisition obsolete gear.  The VFW Post in the tiny community of Lowell Wisconsin was especially well armed!

Howitzer, tank, jet fighter, looks like they are pretty well prepared.  In front of the tank is a ship's anchor.  On it is a plaque:

Often these memorials have some local connection but in this case, no.  The anchor is certainly not from the Dorchester which sank in the North Atlantic.  And none of the Four Chaplains appears to have any local connection.  But it is an important and little known story, one that is worthwhile to remember in any case.
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Odd historical footnote.  Jack Kerouac who would later write "On the Road" was a sailor on the Dorchester.  I've seen more than one account of why he was not on board at the time of her sinking.  The tale of his getting a last minute telegram inviting him to play football for Columbia University seems nonsensical.  More plausibly, the future Beat Generation writer appears to have been discharged for mental health issues.

A Lost Sci Fi writer

It's fairly common in small towns to see murals on the side of buildings.  These are often a nice way to showcase little bits of local history.  This one on the side of an appliance store in Beaver Dam Wisconsin, is rather nicely done.

I really like early Science Fiction.  But I had never heard of Raymond Z. Gallun.  The mural shows a square jawed, steely eyed, cleft chinned man gazing resolutely into an amazing future.  

As you can tell from the fine print Gallun was born in Beaver Dam in 1911.  He enjoyed some success in the early days of Sci Fi, both in the "Pulp Era" of the 1920s and 30s and on into the so called "Golden Age" that began - depending on who you ask - either just before or just after the Second World War.

Gallun did not look anything like the guy on the mural.  

An early sketch...considerably less heroic looking

The mural is actually based on a cover of one of the early Sci Fi magazines that published Gallun's work.  The art on these was always creative, lurid and only vaguely connected to the content of the stories.  I've touched on this phenomena in a previous post.

I would love to say that my rustic wanderings tipped me off to an unrecognized genius; that I am now a devoted fan of this largely forgotten writer.  But to be honest the samples of his work I have come across in my research are.....not that good.

You can judge for yourself by a quick stroll here.  The "freesfonline" data base has some great stuff on it although it rather highlights the poverty of more modern Sci Fi.

Like all the early writers Gallun really "cranked 'em out", getting paid by the page.  His stories tend to be reworkings of earlier stories or archetypes.  In the hands of, say, his contemporary Isaac Asimov this can be spirited fun.  Gallun's take on the classic Western Frontier conflict of settlers versus outlaws seems pretty silly when set on a mining asteroid.  

Well Ray, rest in peace.  You lived long enough to see a lot of the early dreams of the pioneers - of the Sci Fi genre, not the asteroid farmer type - come true.