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.
One wakes up early, 26 July 2026, and is appalled to find still another tree failure right in front of us.
It's clearly a calamitous mess, but at least it had the decency not to crash through the roof of the back porch, or fall out into the lake. We've learnt to cherish these little gifts.
That looks here to stay.
A big jumble of malevolent nature, and . . .
. . . there's the culprit.
Like something that's emerged out of the Deep in an early 1950s horror movie.
There it is, the weak link in the shoreline's defenses.
One minute it was there, and the next . . . Bombs Away!
Not to worry. Brother-in-law Eric's on the scene with his chainsaw, and . . .
. . . what can be carried out of here will be carried out. No fears about that.
But the cats would like to know when they can go outside. (-- When the chainsaw's done its work.)
To be honest for once, there is an much improved view of the lake here now. That's the upside.
Here's friend Gary the DJ circling by on his daily slo-mo pass all round the lake's shoreline in the late afternoon, in his little boat identified as a authentic Calabria.
Another birthday
Everyone's turned out for Joellen's (aka 'Moosie's') birthday, which comes once every year. The dinner's over and now . . .
. . . it's time for the birthday cake. (A promise has been secured that, this time, those are not trick-candles.)
(But how can Moosie be certain of that?)
Cameras at the ready, now . . .
. . . blow them out. Good, well done. All in one go.
It's time for the ritual cutting of the cake.
(Don't drop Emery!)
It's time for the opening of the humorous and sometimes tasteless birthday cards.
The four siblings attending, and family friend Kim Wasserburger (a longtime rock band leader and revered social worker with children)
Here comes the tab for the dinner (not really).
Joellen (aka Moosie), four siblings, and various spouses and progeny
A dash down south to look for basking turtles
Another newish mess along the western side of the Tigertail strait
This little reefy thing has been memorialized many times over the years by tiny monuments to 'Oh WhyNot' -- this new one's got an actual cinder block in the middle. (Why Not?)
On the way down to the South Bay (to hunt basking turtles) (is 'hunt' the right word?)
How about 'seek', or even 'photograph'?
In the South Bay -- the special cove at the far end, where we can usually find a worthy basking turtle, is straight ahead.
A lot of the fallen trees in the soup, great for the baskers, have submerged now, and are useless for serious basking.
That one used to be a favorite -- we zoom-lensed four little basking friends there a few years ago.
Another old favorite, just for the green adornments
Very little left above the surface, but we'll see what we can find.
There's one on the deadhead (which has been a favorite in the past).
We try not to disturb them. Once the neck and head go up, they know we're here: that's step 2. After that, if they decide things are looking potentially iffy, they'll ploop: that's step 3.
Sometimes, if you'll back off and wait silently for a while, they might crawl back up.
We'll sneak round him (or her) to get farther down to the end of the cove.
That seems to be a recent sylvan collapse laid out there in the background, but nearer to us . . .
. . . there's this little fellow (his neck is out).
-- Please don't ploop. We're leaving.
We're sliding round this vast assemblage of nature's trash to see whom or what else we can find.
No baskers back in there, for sure. No proper sunlight.
Disgusting
That's the little corner subcove in the back of the South Bay's main cove.
That's a whole cabal of trees that have conspired together to crash down at the same time. They may have helped one another.
An undercut shoreline and casualties sprawled all over each other
The classic entrance wreckage of the South Bay's far cove. No basking turtles there today.
The putative beaver lodge just outside the back cove
A skinny tree that seems to have squirmed its way all about for survival
This could happen to all of us eventually, mutatis mutandis.
That, by the way, up there, is the ancient railroad right-of-way from the lumbering days and on into the mid-century, in 1956. It's been converted into the 'Bearskin Trail' (map), a bit over 21 miles long from Minocqua to Tomahawk. It was 23.1km (15 miles) down from Hazelhurst to Highway K when I was time-racing Eric's mountain bike down and back regularly in 1996, 1998, and 2000.
More sad collapses just below the Bearskin Trail
Back under the bridge (once that thing's got off it)
A quiet evening towards the end of another late July day
Another planning session at the beginning of another late July day
Another short wait in the confidence that Dad will be coming down for his hydrobike ride soon.
South along the main lake, below the public landing. Probably about where the old sawmill was (see below).
A boathouse with a kind of Grimms' Fairy Tale look to it
Back up north at the end of another fine day on the lake. In late July.
The Lake in the Wisconsin Northwoods
Mussent Point is at no. 12.
The text overlays are updating a few names to our current understanding.
The Northwoods Land Trust has produced a 7-min YouTube film, 'Land & Water: the heart and soul of the Northwoods', that features a number of beautiful aerial passes over Lake Katherine.
Next up: We await further dispatches.
Dwight Peck's personal website
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and suggestions are welcome if positive, resented if negative, 
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All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 20 August 2026.
