Grand Rapids, Minnesota to Madeline Island, Wisconsin – 182 miles
Those
darn cheeseheads have been keeping a secret from the rest of us, and it’s
called Madeline Island. Whoever heard of
it? (Other than maybe Tom and Maureen
Zupancich, those displaced Wisconsonians who’ve been keeping their mouths shut
all these years.) Madeline Island is
delightful chunk of rock in an archipelago called the Apostle Islands off the
far northern tip of Wisconsin in the big lake they call Gitche Gumee, otherwise
known as Lake Superior. The island lies a couple of miles off the mainland, a short ferry ride from the town of
Bayfield, which itself is situated off on a narrow, winding state highway that
circumnavigates the Bayfield Peninsula, the northernmost point of the Cheese
State. We never would have heard of it
ourselves if we hadn’t been searching the Allstays app on my iPhone, looking
for a campground or RV park to stop for the night. We saw a place called Big Bay State Park, and
noted that it required a ferry ride to get to.
Gee, that sounds neat, we thought, let’s check it out.
Our
first hint that this place was closely guarded came as we rode the ferry across
the strait separating the island from the mainland. We had gone up onto the upper deck of the
little ferry, and since it was rather cool (might have something to do with all
those icebergs floating around us), I went down to the motorhome to get an
extra layer to put on. Figuring I was
some sort of wimp for needing something warmer to wear, the fellow in the
pickup truck next to us looked at me suspiciously and asked, “First time to the
Island?” “Yes,” I replied, “Is there always this much ice around at this time
of year?” “Not usually, it’s been a cold
winter – where you from?” “Colorado.”
“Ok then, I guess we’ll let you on the island. If you had said Minnesota I’d have to throw
you off the boat.” He should have known
right away that I wasn’t from Minnesota because I didn’t talk like I came
straight from a casting call for the movie “Fargo.”
He
turned out to be a nice fellow after all, and as Jeanette kept glaring down at
me from the deck above, wondering why I wasn’t bringing her coat up, he began
to tell me a little bit about the island.
It is approximately twelve miles long by four miles wide, and is the
year-round home to a couple of hundred hardy souls plus 60 or 70 bears (we saw one
crossing the road in the campground), some deer, and a bunch of raccoons
. The population expands greatly during the summer as folks from the rest of state who apparently know the secret password come up to thaw out their vacation cottages and enjoy swimming and boating in the warm waters of Lake Superior, which has been known to warm up to nearly 50 degrees at times during late August. The ferry runs as long as the water stays open, and once it freezes, the hardy natives drive across the ice to pick up beer and other necessities from the mainland. (I keep picturing that shiny Mercedes Benz sinking through the ice in “The Four Seasons.”)
Anyway,
to make a long story short, we’ve decided to spend a couple of nights here and
rest up, since the weather is nice and we’ve been pushing it rather hard for
the past few days. There’s some hiking
trails around the park where we’re staying, a couple of nice restaurants in the
little town by the ferry landing, plus the usual T-shirt and arts and crafts
shops. There’s even a Catholic church,
so we can attend Mass tomorrow evening at 6:15.
Oh yeah, and we can sit in a waterfront bar, sipping beer and watching
the icebergs melt – something that’s slightly more exciting than watching paint
dry.
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| Ferry entering Madeline Island harbor. |
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| Tom's Burned Down Cafe, a popular gathering spot for the younger generation. |
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