As promised, here's the recall (or at least a cloudy rendition of events that unfolded with the crazy group of people I'm lucky enough to call friends) of Athelstane. Dennis and Erin have spent the past few years planning an annual semi-outdoor adventure in the North Woods. I only say semi because we have stayed in cabins beautiful enough for me to consider giving up the city life and moving into a log cabin in the woods. For the past two years I've packed my hiking shoes, kayaking gear (which, to be honest, is just my bathing suit and workout clothes since) and favorite beverages, jumped in my car and drove north to meet the group at the Wildman Whitewater Ranch. The promise, and follow through, of a fantastic time made the 4 hour drive north more than worth it.
The long weekend began Thursday evening with a tasty cookout, brats for the masses and grilled veggies for me. Despite the heat, we built a cozy fire, had a couple drinks, even more laughs and roasted golden burnt marshmallows for s'mores. Oh, and tried to relive the previous years shenanigans by searching for an unlocked bus to pretend to steal and climbing to the top of the "lookout" tower. It's strange how one minute you're looking up at the serene starry sky reminded of how small you are, and the next minute you can be swept up in the hilarity around you. To me, that's uniquely north woods. Being surrounded by the peacefulness of nature, connected to the sounds and sights, but for as breathtaking the surroundings, the vast openness of it all calls for the bonding of friendships through questionable decision making.
The next morning, or was it technically afternoon, we put on our life jackets and helmets and boarded our kayaks for a run down the Menomonee River (all hopeful the water would be higher than last years "rock avoiding" kayaking run). The water was much higher, and made it much easier to maneuver. The Menomonee is has category four rapids, and it's awesome, but just because you make it through the first rapid without falling out, don't get too greedy. I made it through the first rapid, and it was so much fun I thought I'd try again. Mistake. The second run wasn't as successful; it was, in fact, the complete opposite. And scary. I don't think I got enough momentum, and tipped out half way down the rapid. They say to keep your feet up. Easier said than done, especially when a guide from a different tour group is screaming at you not to let go of your paddle and to swim toward the group (as if that wasn't what I was trying to do). The current was strong, and I had gone under a couple times before grabbing hold of and climbing atop a rock. One of our guides grabbed my boat, brought it over, and waited for me to regain my composure before continuing down the river. The rest of the run was a little less nerve wracking, and I made it the rest of the way without tipping again. Success.
The sunny afternoon led to another warm evening around the fire. More s'mores, even more laughs and a new way to make root beer floats. Our "relaxing" evening lasted until early morning. After a quick cat nap, part of the group opted for golf, some, like me, opted for leisurely walks around the grounds, falling asleep while reading outside on the balcony and a sunset bike ride. In true north woods fashion, riding along the winding road, I came across a bear cub sifting through someone's trash. I pedaled quickly past mentally crossing my fingers that the garbage would keep him distracted and prevent him from chasing me up a tree. Thankfully, that little cub was far more interested in the discarded banana's and grandma's meatloaf than biting my right leg. I made it back to the cabin in time for the last night of camaraderie, found myself a comfy spot on a futon nearly six hours after the sun went down, and woke up early enough to make it to Marisa's bridal shower.
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