Nugent – “Stranglehold”, Pink Floyd – “Comfortably Numb”,
Skynyrd – “Gimme Three Steps”… it was like God had his thumb on the classic
rock dial and knew exactly what I needed this week each time we roamed the
North Shore. There’s few places in this world that I’d rather be than cruising
Highway 61 with my wife and children. No real destination in mind. Sights set
on some waterfall up the road or a rocky beach down the way. Usually we’ve only
got rock throwing or ice cream on our minds.
For as many years as I can recall, Michele and I have toted
our kids up the North Shore of Lake Superior on mid-summer, camping
expeditions. Long ago, we started with one family tent and babies and have now
graduated in to a Palomino pop-up camper and big kids. All along we’ve stuck to
the plan of having no real plan. Meals come when we’re hungry. A hike here or a
nap there whenever we feel so moved by the spirit. Bathing can mean a dip in
the Gooseberry River or a hot steamy shower in the CCC bathhouse. We’ve caught and
released more tadpoles than your Average Joe has seen in his life. When we’ve
been lucky, we find the blueberries and raspberries in season and stop periodically
along the trail for handfuls of those delicious little gifts from God. Nightly
campfires are usually snuffed out early enough for us to play a dice game in
the camper before hitting the sack.
This year was just a little different in that we stayed at
Lamb’s Resort in Schroeder instead of our regular, good ole’ Gooseberry Falls.
An hour drive up the rocky coast put us somewhere between to Tettegouche and
Grand Marais. The privately owned campground had a slightly different feel to
it but the big lake to the east was just the same. This year I caught brook
trout and splake in the river. The kids seemed to have a giant waterfall to
themselves. Michele read books on the beach and for the first time, Raider joined us. He was a champ - swimming
and hiking, laying around camp, and tending to the flies like it was his job.
He’s earned a return trip, no doubt.
The visibility was as good as we’ve ever seen it. The
Sawtooth Mountains presided over the cliffs of Lake Superior for as far as the
eye could see. Gitche Gumme sat still most days, clear as gin and frigid as
always. The kids spent a few bucks in the malt shop at Lamb’s the same night I
took a tumble somewhere up the canyon chasing another trout. Michele diligently
washed the dishes each day in exchange for never cooking a meal and Raider was
the perfect complement to our storybook vacation.
Like all good things, the trip had to end. Our vacation
filled with everything proved to us that good company is all you ever need to
make things enjoyable. As a troop, we tore down camp. Wrapped up sleeping bags.
Stowed away utensils. Policed stray trash. We condensed what remained in the
coolers and packed up the truck. Unfortunately, that’s when things took a
little detour.
The keys to open the locking, hitch pin were nowhere to be
found. The routine of set up and tear down has never changed. As soon as the
trailer is freed from the truck, the keychain goes in the ashtray of the
pickup. Logan and I are typically in charge of leveling out and cranking up and
down the camper. Sure, Michele and Emma help out when needed but it was
painfully obvious that the responsibility for this set of keys lay somewhere on
the two barrel chested, Kirby boys. Panic set in as check-out time loomed. With
everything tucked neatly away, we scurried to pull out bags and start digging
through pockets. Together, the four of us scoured the truck and the bags from
the trailer. We looked on the ground around camp. We opened and emptied bunches
of Tupperwares assigned to hold random camp supplies excluding the keys. With
sweat dripping and my heart racing, I could sense that Emma felt helpless;
Logan felt guilty; and Michele felt annoyed.
My wife stopped the fruitless key endeavor and asked me to
explain our options. I said that it may be time to start thinking about a bolt
cutter or a hacksaw. Almost 45 minutes in to the search, Michele thought it was
pointless to waste any more energy on something with such a simple solution and
so she sent me on my way, with my tail tucked, in search of said tools.
At checkout time, the Camp Office is filled with all kinds
of excitement. People leaving early and others in search of any random
vacancies. That day, I was the schlep asking to borrow the hardware necessary
for breaking and entering. Luckily our host had a hacksaw, although he
questioned the condition of the blade. I headed back to camp with the second
rate hacksaw. It was better than having to face my wife empty handed.
Thankfully, God had spared me the necessary 1/8th of
an inch I needed to squeeze the blade in between the locking mechanism and the
parts of the trailer that needn’t be cut. And luckily, Master Lock had used
sufficient metal to deter thieves but not the hardened steel that I feared
would tear apart my borrowed hacksaw. Within minutes, I was through and knew
that I had packed a cotter pin in the emergency kit that would safely hold the
hitch in place. Minus a little hurt pride and about an hour of our time, we
were no worse for the wear and on our way. I stopped at the Camp Office with
the remnants of my Master Lock and returned the tool with a handshake and a
thank you. Sheepishly, we pulled on to Highway 61 and headed for home.
In no time, the kids had their headphones on and were tucked
back in to their digital worlds. Michele was flipping through a novel and I was
begging for the air conditioner to help lower my pulse. A few miles down the
road, I turned down the radio and caught my kids’ attention. To my wife and
children I apologized for our slight detour and thanked them for another
wonderful vacation. In the rearview mirror, I could see Emma break.
“What is it, Emma?”
Logan giggled.
Michele asked if I wanted the good news… as she reached down
and pulled the missing keys from the outside pocket of her purse. A pocket she swears
is only used for her cell phone. A pocket that she reached for while I was
inside, returning the hacksaw to the Camp Office!
I could do nothing but laugh. Michele laughed. Emma laughed.
And Logan said, “I’m
just glad we didn’t find it in my bag!”
“Gimme Three Steps,
Gimme Three Steps Mister and you’ll never see me no more….”
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