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.
The entrance to the first tranche of the canal as of 29 July 2026.
On 12 July Gary the DJ had cleared the channel entrance and side piles out entirely, and on 17 July, as he dug further at the entrance, we pushed our bike over it and proceeded to get grimly stuck on another underwater pile of branches near the entry to the midlake.
On 29 July 2026, in a sudden fit of righteous determination, and aware that hydrobikes are not welcome here at the moment, we've come back to take Gary's johnboat along to get at that second obstacle near the mid-lake.
We proceed along the route, with its long neglected feral and jungly insanities; happily, Gary is doing the required rowing.
After all these years, the whole thing's become a big mess, with fallen trees and branches, overgrowths everywhere, and a bottom with waterlogged detritus and a few feet of formerly-vegetative mud.
Find below a vintage photograph of the canal back in its glory days.
One doesn't normally even consider exiting one's vehicle to free it up or push it ahead. We have witnessed as both Cousin Rob and, another time, Kristin gave it a try with appalling results.
A lot of this part of the canal is doable with hydrobikes, except for our new obstacles, and as long as one is vigilant about submerged branches reaching up to catch the propeller.
But even now there's a growth of a new odd grass along the bottom (which, however, was not fouling the propeller the other day).
Approaching the entrance to the mid-lake (aka Mirror Lake)
We've got easily over the one submerged tree that forces us hydrobikers to up-propeller, and thanks awfully to Gary for digging up all these interwoven logs and branches and tossing them up out of our way.
With his handy pole (as Cousin Rob used to do, when required).
So now we can cross the mid-lake and sneak up on whatever discouraging obstacles may still await us.
Now we've poled under the culvert supporting Sylvan Shore Drive (with a large rock fallen into it from the road above) and are facing out to Lake Tomahawk on our second tranche. Which has become more and more unwelcome in the past few years.
.
Death, and destruction, and utter waste. (We must begin to become aware of this, as the climate devolves so much more rapidly.)
A hundred years ago, apparently, the civic or sawmill authorities took care of their massive fallen trees (on the left).
So far, so more or less good.
At least now we can see Lake Tomahawk at the end of the tunnel.
More and more slow progress, now with the pole rather than the oars.
Despair pretty much overwhelms us -- there's too much to be got over and through for one afternoon.
We'll turn back, if we can.
It's not easy with the johnboat, but a whole lot better than trying to turn round a hydrobike with a minimal turning circle.
Back to the culvert. The path down from the left is meant for wintry snowmobilers to climb over the culvert rather than wreck the machines trying to get through it.
The light at the end of the tunnel. In moments, we'll be crossing the mid-lake and powering down the other tranche of the canal.
But first, as we leave the mid-lake into the canal, a quiet moment of nature's beauty.
It's a great experience from a johnboat. From a hydrobike with its propeller, it would be a very tricky proposition.
In September 2024 we got the bike mushed up in the weeds in this very place, fouling the propeller and leaving us potentially stranded awaiting rescue from people who had no idea where we'd gone. After 15 minutes of the 'back-pedal-fast/forward-pedal-fast and repeat' technique, we were able finally to get across the lake, where we could untangle the weeds and carry on to Lake Tomahawk for the last time.
Onward we proceed, when Gary's finished photographing nature's beauty.
This is what it's like forcing even a johnboat over the built-up muck round the entrance.
In summer 1996, Kristin was able to drive a johnboat with outboard motor, conveying myownself and daughters Alison and Marlowe, straight through canal and over a winch machine out onto Lake Tomahawk, up to the Lakeside Grill for lunch, and back home again.
We're free, and unharmed.
It's time to retire in good order, not forgetting . . .
. . . the oh-so-helpful johnboat.
Will we be back?
We did, after all, make it out to the mid-lake in any case. Though we had no time for my favorite purpose for having come there over the years to float calmly about looking for basking turtles, frogs, and (at least once) a snake.
But now we'll leave on our bike, round past Gary's point out into the main lake.
Time for breakfast, the following day.
What's on the agenda for today, then?
(I don't actually stop for breakfast, just an early lunch. That was just a faux-caption.)
But let's just posit that we're going out to photograph a (very) small, surviving family of ducks.
(Look like mallards to my untrained eye.)
Our little buddies are sleeping in today, as we . . .
(That's not Choupette with Melvin, by the way; that's Choupette's half-brother, Pugsley.)
. . . get a proper rainstorm outside. One of very few this summer, thus our disappearing water level.
Another shot at the Canal
Our friend Gary the DJ, with his johnboat, helped us to clear out the obstacles at the far end of the canal to the mid-lake, and we're back to try out the hydrobike access if any. (4 August 2026)
At this point, we're still obliged to risk our cute little water shoes in the muck at the bottom to push the bike over toward getting a proper start at the thing.
Off we go, and the little grass beds along the bottom, not seen here before, seem to have cleared out already.
At about this time, Gary the DJ came up with some grass collections befouling his shoreside vehicles on the far side of the bay, 'horned pond weed' (Zannichellia palustris) he seems to have found on Google Photos.
Of course, not much else has just cleared out.
It's all much as it has been. Not like in the early days (photo below), eh?
We are, though, making mostly familiar progress.
This is what happens when our local governments leave maintenance to their successors.
About halfway along, close now (counting by overlooming trees).
Worse and worse every year, probably. Very ugly, but at the same time, very interesting.
We've cruised through here so many times that we're building another enthusiasm, for the mid-lake beauties, but especially for the possibility of finding some basking turtles again.
The water level does seem to be lowering significantly recently, how bad could this summer have been? (Very bad, actually.)
The last leg of our goal for today -- that bankside stump on the far left is part of a submerged tree that we normally slide over, letting our propreller guard push it up.
Here it is . . . but. Our pontoons (not just the propeller) are stuck on it, the first time that's happened. We're rocking back and forth, to no avail, haven't a pole to push off with, and have the very least intention of setting off into the muck to pull it off.
Rocking back and forth hasn't been working yet, but . . .
. . . then, happily, it does. We're free, sort of, but . . .
. . . we still need to get turned round to get out of here before dark. With our teensy turning circle and circumambient mud banks slipping off the canal sides, that can require another ten doubtful minutes.
Still trying to get back onto the centre track. Almost there.
OK, go easily now, stay focused.
The canal bottom, in the afternoon, is usually more or less visible as we progress, but going back westward features mainly only bouncy surface sunlight.
The nasty part of The Nature can sure make wonders.
The straight shot for freedom now
Though we'll still have to get off the bike to haul it across, and perhaps get our little water shoes sucked down into Muck Oblivion.
We're out!! '"O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” He chortled in his joy.'
It's all become still very Yucky. Is it just the beavers?
'Horned Pond Weed"?
Heading for home now.
Past Gary the DJ's point, and . . .
. . . back up to the north end of the lake.
A day with Grandma at the Minocqua Public Library book sale (Lakeland Times, 7 August 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.
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: Some fragmentary recollections from a long midsummer
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 26 August 2026.
