Dwight Peck's personal website
A photographic record of whatever leapt out at us
You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
More scenes from the lake, early September 2020
Our annual summer pilgrimage to the Wisconsin Northwoods
The highway crews have gone, 31 August, and we are admiring their new guard railings.
Our tax dollars at work
(much better than spending them on 800+ US military bases round the world or bailing out hedge fund gamblers)
A certain linear elegance to it
We're lucky that we're much too big for this nasty beast (if only our cats were too big for it as well).
Another late summer sprint down the canal
Along the mid-lake shore in the canal: a hint of a likely turtle spotting
A sun-basking turtle it is -- we're silently sneaking up on it (with 'muffled oars', they would have said in the old days).
It knows we're here, but happily it's not yet plooping back into the water.
But seconds later -- ploop! Disappeared utterly from view.
We continue our little journey. The weather's been changing, the leaves will begin to turn colors soon.
Through to the end, then back again . . .
. . . to find that our turtle friend is clambering back onto his basking log.
We're more careful not to disturb it this time.
This is the peninsula separating the main lake from the so-called Tomahawk Bay (near number 48 on the map below).
Looking through the narrow spit of land at the main lake beyond
Passing the main eagle hideout on the main island, Adjidaumo
Impedimentum. We circumhydrobike it.
A parade of clouds
Kayakers in the late afternoon, 4 September 2020
After an overnight storm (-- Go fetch the rake for me, will you?)
Baby Leigh, between the mainland and George Island
The stormy end of the summer season -- another pontoon boat coming free of its moorings
To the rescue
The lake's Good Samaritan
An eagle surveillance post in the South Bay
It's not happy about our presence in the vicinity.
But we're in pursuit.
And it's still not having it.
We've caught up with it across the bay.
Ooo, it's angry.
A perennial rocky reef
At the end of an exhilirating ride at the southern parts of the lake, Cousin Rob peels off for his house to the east, 6 September.
And we continue north towards Mussent Point. Every day that we're passing up this western side of the lake, we pedal in close enough to give Dave an exuberant wave . . .
. . . and nearly every day he steps out onto the patio and provides an exuberant wave in return. The 2020 score turned out to be 46 Dave Waves out of 48 tries.
Today we're in the South Shore Drive bay to seek out a muskrat seen fleetingly in this vicinity, from a distance, some days ago.
It was, at the time, darting into a refuge on or under the shore, and we just need to locate that and wait for it to reappear.
Some of our party have taken the opinion that it's under that tree root, obviously . . .
. . . a natural place for a hideout.
Others in the party are holding out, stubbornly, for this much less likely possibility.
But in the end, we never found it, not on this day, in fact, never.
The ancient steps to nowhere
It's a quick solo trip through the canal on this chilly day, 8 September 2020
It's a very mucky environment . . .
. . . and a chillier day than anticipated.
Looking for basking turtles along the mid-lake shore. No sun, no basking; no turtles today.
Infrastructure improvements -- a new bench, securely chained to the tree, wisely.
Browning ferns -- can the snow and ice be far behind?
It can make you dizzy sometimes.
To the end of the canal . . .
. . . looking out over the vastly larger adjacent lake.
And the return trip
A fine place for a muskrat house maybe
Another siesta, followed by . . .
. . . a coordinated hunting expedition for unwary insects.
Another end-of-the-season chilly, rainy day. As usual on rainy days, we're camped on the pontoon boat at the boathouse dock, wading through a big book and providing refuge for . . .
. . . cats like Melvin who hate the rain.
Restive; impatient; anxious. Mewling in frustration.
There's no sign that this might let up for the next week or more.
We're going to have to intervene on Melvin's behalf.
Crouched over with Melvin rolled up inside the rain jacket, we're scampering towards shelter and the catfood dishes.
The Lake in the Wisconsin Northwoods
Mussent Point is at no. 12.
Next up: Still more scenes from the lake, mid-September 2020
and suggestions are welcome if positive, resented if negative, .
All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 22 November 2020.