Mostly trampoline lessons, and a basking turtle

Dwight Peck's personal website

Summer 2026

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.

Mostly trampoline lessons, and a basking turtle. And the cats, too.

late June, early July 2026

A fine day, 25 June 2026, and we're off for an afternoon pedal.

But as usual, we'll need to have a little care for the first part.

One of our favorite arboreal catastrophes -- one of many on the lake.

Behind the little spit of land by the entrance to Tomahawk Bay . . .

. . . opening out on our northern main lake.

Fish nests, out of service now and filling up with dead vegetation

Down along the South Shore Bay, that's the goose and family that waddled off our lawn a week ago.

AI says: 'Herons, otters, muskrats, and mink are commonly cited as culprits eating freshwater mussels.'

Another fine day [the Canadian forest fires were still two weeks off at this point]

A trampoline rodeo, and . . .

. . . the next day, private lessons from a long-time trampoline specialist.

With a very good student!

In another year, he might be leaping up into the trees.

-- Careful there!

Now he's up and . . .

. . . ready to go!

And the entire time, they're being watched from above. Luckily, that thing's looking for fish in the lake, preferably already dead, not full-size trampolinists down below.

Choupette the Explorer Cat drew our attention to this worthy old pedalo stashed up in the woods and extremely dirty. We're seeing if we can resurrect it for any potential pedaloists.

It wasn't altogether easy, to be honest, but now it's looking pretty good. Now we just need to try to climb in, with our knees to our chin, and see if we can figure out how this propeller stick works.

Despite everything, it's all worked out well. And its serious fans came along the next day and removed it to the main dock for more convenient use by the masses.

Taking a brief break from a book that's not really doing it for us.

We're getting our full quota of choppy waters this summer; here's another one from the south.

Nature's own waves can slow us down, but can actually be . . .

. . . grand bouncy fun.

The July Fourth ski-boat crowds on the lake are, as a regular thing, not really welcome as a way of life for us, but from time to time during the summer, their meter-high wakes coming at us from 3 or 4 directions at the same time can be . . . invigorating.

Trying sneak out, is he? Forget it, the new door's locked.

Trucks passing up the highway over the bridge -- noisy, sometimes rolling along nearly bumper to bumper on touristy weekends, but much better than the recent proposals to overhaul the whole area with serious four-lane sorts of expensive unpleasantnesses.

From where that last photo was taken, that's Chase Island near the southern shore near the bridge, 3km south of our Mussent Point in the North Bay.

Like all of the uninhabited islands here, it's off-limits by the Northwoods Land Trust for the Yawkey Forest Reserve's conservation goals. Fair enough.

It's more a slightly vegetated reef than an island, to be honest, and with our 17cm propeller depth we strive to avoid too much familiarity with it.

Clearly, it's had its full budget of nature's losses, but we're not, by law or custom, meant to clean up after the various mishaps, and in any case, they have a kind of intriguing beauty of their own.

Like this. Nature in all its glory, but do tip your propeller up as you come round.

The less collapsed northern side of Chase Island, and from there . . .

. . . over to Pink Island, much of a muchness, an over-vegetated reefy sort of thing, also off-limits for the Forest Reserve. With the long length of the Tigertail in the background.

That's a small beach on Pink Island (with its own verboten sign), and a submerged reef stretching off to the right. (Propellers up!)

And the northern point of Pink, with a fine sandy stretch running halfway out towards the Tigertail point. Popular for family outings with a few boats and plastic floaters for the kids.

The deeply undercut shoreline all round the point of the Tigertail.

The serious explorer in the family

The serious explorer, and also (unfortunately) the inveterate hunter

We humans don't hunt mice and chipmunks, and Melvin's getting too old to care. But Choupette cares.

The longtime eagles' nest on the main island, Adjidaumo

We heard some juvenile squeaks on this day, but no little heads above the barricades.

Our favorite island here, called 'Baby Leigh', because of some local legend passed down from the old sawmill days, apparently.

With its multiple bowsprit, protruding from what we'd like to believe is the bow.

A nap is where you find it.

The one indulgence in which both the cats participate

Hiding out in a very cute manner is another.

Three kilometres to the south and under the highway bridge into the South Bay . . .

. . . in search of our first basking turtle of the season. And there it is.

It's noticed us, we must be very quiet, so as not to induce panic and a ploop into the depths.

It's either very brave or frozen in terror.

We'll sneak round and let it get back to its basking.

From the other side, as we resume our lacustrine peregrinations, passing as we do . . .

. . . this beaver lodge here in the South Bay, for the past few years.

Back under the highway bridge, hoping in vain to have caught a view of a Walmart or FedEx supertruck, this old thing, noisily laboring to get up the hill, will have to do for today.

Back to the trampolines

With such a dedicated and energetic pupil, how could our instructor go wrong?

Dance steps included, as well as . . .

. . . mad leaps.

Perhaps that's enough for this afternoon.

Ten minutes ago, Choupette thought she could catch a squirrel headed for the refuge of the tree.

Her pose has not altered, at all, in that time. Her eyes have not blinked. Her tail hasn't even wagged. (Eventually, obviously, this was all entirely futile. She has, over the years, been able to chase a squirrel up 4 or 5 feet of tree before flopping down off of it, by which time the squirrel is having a good laugh from 12 feet up or more.)

And tomorrow's another day (i.e., 3 July 2026).

The Lake in the Wisconsin Northwoods

Mussent Point is at no. 12.
The text overlays are updating a few names to our current understanding.

Next up: Finally, some basking turtles, and the secret of the mysterious swamp