Monday, September 21, 2020
I departed from Moline, Illinois around 7am on Monday, September 21, 2020 with 20,600 miles on my Honda Ridgeline, headed north on I-39 / US51 toward Sturgeon Bay in Door County, Wisconsin. I completed the trip with 22,500 miles on my odometer around 4pm on Sunday September 26th. The drive was inspired by the book: Most Scenic Drives in America (pages 204-205,) where it is described as “Door County Byways.” The route is most recommended for Autumn (which is true of about 80% of the trips I hope to take in retirement) and I was a few weeks early to get the absolute peak of foliage color. I understood that going in, but knew that my opportunity to see things and take pictures without constantly fighting crowds was much better, and frankly it worked best with the rest of my family activity schedule, so I sacrificed some color for convenience. I’ve heard people raving about the Door County area for years, so this excursion was pretty high on my list. And since I was in the Moline area for family matters anyway, I had the excuse I needed for another solo foray. My objective was to see and photograph some of the many lighthouses in the area as well as some of the extraordinary scenery I have been hearing so much about.
My first stop (aside from the normal refueling and comfort breaks) was Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. The Bay is comprised of about 100 miles of shoreline, with some areas covered by sandy beaches and a others dotted by waterfront shopping and restaurants. The weather when I arrived was beautiful, and I found my self mesmerized initially by the stunning yachts and pleasure boats tied up in the harbor. Some looked to be 100 feet in length, and they all gleamed in the sun. Many were sporting large “TRUMP 2020” flags along with American flags, and the harbor was alive with color and activity as people traversed the piers and a strong breeze snapped the flags suspended above each gently rocking boat.
After admiring the boats, I picked up a couple of brochures describing the features of the bay area, and headed off to my next stop – the observation tower at Potawatomi State Park. I did find the tower, and I’m sure the view from its 75-foot-high platform is impressive. However, the tower has fallen into disrepair over the years, and – although you won’t see this in any of the official website information – they have boarded up the lowest 15 feet or so, prohibiting anyone from ascending the tower. It’s a real shame. Still the forest surrounding the tower, and the scenic overlook, even from ground level, are quite beautiful. It just felt like a bit of a “bait-and-switch.”
The third stop I had planned for that day was the North Pierhead Lighthouse, which is located just offshore from the taller and much more modern Sturgeon Bay Canal Station Lighthouse at 2501 Canal Road.
The route to that location is well documented in Sturgeon Bay / Door Country literature, and less than 5 miles in length. By the time I arrived, a couple of things had changed. The first was that it was approaching dusk, and the other was the weather. The beautiful sunny day was giving way to a stiff, cold breeze of Lake Michigan that churned up some beautiful – if threatening whitecaps. The long walkway out to the old North Pierhead lighthouse is elevated about 20 feet above a concrete pier, with access prohibited to the public. However, members of the public are able to walk out onto the pier, which I did. As the little squall blew up, the skies yielded some beautiful color. I braced myself against the girders and shot the incoming storm. As I stood there, I learned a little about the Lake Michigan water temperature as waves washed over my feet and well up my shins, filling my hiking shoes. It was a good lesson in what one needs to prepare for when one goes out to photograph nature. After that little jaunt, I spent a few minutes back in the truck changing into dry shoes and socks.
The pier was an interesting compromise between private residential property, public access to the water, and US Coast Guard property. Lest one wander onto either residential or US Coast Guard property, there are yellow lines painted on the asphalt walkway down to the water that clearly announce which 3-foot-wide section you’re permitted to traverse. Many, many taxpayer dollars have been spent on signage in the area to make sure you understand that if you wander a yard or two off the path, the US Department of Homeland Security will whisk you away. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the folks occupying these lighthouse installations are quite certain they are protecting the United States from spies and invaders. They are very serious about their little domains, and really, REALLY don’t want the public walking around outside, even to take photographs or just enjoy the view. Of course, it is the US Government who collects the money to build and maintain these edifices to alert ships and other watercraft of their positions relative to the coastline. The government that collects that money takes it from us in the form of taxes. So we fund these places, yet are prohibited from even walking around on the grounds to see them clearly. As far as I know, there is no Top Secret or even confidential work being done there. But none the less, no expense has been spared on the signage, fencing, and other security measures established to make sure we all understand how important they are. Legends, it would seem, in their own minds. This was reinforced a couple more times during my little excursion. Still, I’m glad I had the opportunity to walk out there, and equally glad I didn’t fall off the narrow pier!
On my drive back through the woods toward the city, I came across the most interesting little treasure out in the middle of nowhere; an astronomical observatory. It sits several hundred feet back off of the narrow blacktop winding its way through the forest, and if you’re not paying close attention (because you’re looking for barns to photograph or deer about to dash out in front of you), you’ll certainly miss it. It’s one of those “two gravel tracks running back into the woods” things. But I did spot this one, and – even though I was a little eager to get out of the woods before I was swallowed up in the pitch blackness – it intrigued me enough to pull me off to explore. What I found was a tiny compound containing the Leif Everson Observatory. The demure bronze plaque adorning its wall says: God created the firmament, Earth, sun, moon, and stars, and it was good. Dedicated to learning, 1997. (I surmise this is a loose reference to the biblical account of creation in Genesis Chapter 1.) It turns out this place actually has an official street address – something that seems surprising given its environs – which is 2200 Utah Street in Sturgeon Bay.
According to a Sturgeon Bay marketing website, the building was a cooperative venture between the Sturgeon Bay School District and the Sturgeon Bay Education Foundation. The Sturgeon Bay Education Foundation was a nonprofit organization founded to raise funds for the school district and consisted of teachers and community-minded members. One of these members, Jim Maki, 8th grade teacher at T.J. Walker Middle School, was the impetus behind the building of the Observatory. He was an avid astronomer and thought having an observatory for his students to use to study stars and planets was a great idea. He contacted Ray Stonecipher, retired professor from the University of Wisconsin – Whitewater, and together they worked to make the Observatory a reality. The Observatory houses a 14-inch Schmidt Cassegrain telescope operated by a tracking mount controlled by computer. If a building can be cute, this little observatory is cute, and worth a stop if you’re ever wandering through the woods up that way!
While at the North Pierhead Lighthouse, before (literally) getting my feet wet for the first time on the trip, I chatted briefly with a nice gentleman who resides in the neighborhood. People who observe me wandering around with a big camera looking lost, which is my standard demeanor, often take pity and try to help; this was one such occasion. The kind local told me about another lighthouse in the area which he considers a picturesque location known as the Sherwood Point Lighthouse. I decided to see whether I could find it on my way back toward civilization later that night, but I was unsuccessful. The gentleman was kind, but his directions, or – more likely – my comprehension of his directions – were faulty. (In all fairness, as darkness approaches one should not wander through unfamiliar woods with only sketchy verbal directions.) In any case, before giving up my search for the night, I stumbled across a very nice little boat launch just as dusk overcame me, in an area called Idlewild. It seemed a likely spot for quiet contemplation, and I did a little contemplating there before I moved on. The sound of gently lapping water in a quiet cove is nature’s sedative. It was one of those times when I paused to recognize that I would likely never be in that particular spot again (I probably couldn’t even find it again if I tried) and should appreciate the providence of God as He directed my path along that deserted corner of the woods.
Lights are another feature of this trip that I want to point out. While I was wandering around between the cattle ranches of Wyoming late one night in search of Mother Featherlegs (see my description of the Deadwood excursion earlier this year) I discovered that even when set on bright, the headlights of my little Honda Ridgeline simply are not bright enough for safety. Deer, cows, and other creatures that come out at dusk to feed tend to spring out of the brush with little warning, and if one is not exceedingly careful, he can find himself participating in a close encounter of the destructive kind. So, when I returned from the Deadwood excursion, I put a pair of Hella driving lights on my Amazon wish list.
Family members were kind enough to make a birthday gift of them in September and I had them mounted behind the grill of the Ridgeline. The installer over at Rogue Lighting suggested that we wire them into the electrical system in such a way that they engage whenever I switch my headlights to their bright setting. These things are AMAZING. I feel a great deal safer in situations like the Door County excursion after dark. In deep woods, in pitch darkness, and following winding roads through unfamiliar territory, these lights are the bomb.