Wabi Sabi goes to Deer Camp for a weekend adventure.

Dawn on Friday found me heading straight north from Green Bay on a series of  highways identified only by their cryptic numbers on my rumpled map. At the border crossing, a sleepy sentinel was distracted and I seized the opportunity to enter the U.P. quietly.

birdPassing through Iron Mountain, I kept the car at a reasonable speed in order to call no attention to my Wisconsin plates. Then, it was a straight run for Sagola.  Once there, luggage was quickly transferred to a black SUV and purchases such as “ice, ” “gasoline,” and a mysterious bag of “egg rolls” were made. Money was exchanged with strangers who spoke “English.” I could understand most of what they were saying since I was raised among people who spoke this peculiar dialect and am actually bilingual…though my accent has grown rusty with disuse.

As our Detroit-Irish host pointed out, there would be no need to blindfold us on the way into camp.






Without a guide, we’d never be able to find our way in or out again.

  1. Karen Taylor says:

    You neglected to show them the really bad roads we had to cross, and by the way…. I paid cash, American I think, to have the border sentinel distracted Netasha Derozier. Who was that man you claimed was your baggage manager? There was something unsettling about him. I think it was the fake ear hair.

  2. Lignum Draco says:

    Where’s the sign saying “trespassers will be shot”? 🙂

  3. jlheuer says:

    I think you need to do a pigeon series. They’ve been following you around through numerous locations.

  4. I love the words you wrote and the short story you create……*smiles*

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