Topsy-Turviness

There are always a few topsy-turvy events each week in the Snug to keep us on our toes.

Definition: Topsy-turvy (adj.)
top-sy tur-vy [tòpsee túrvee]
1. upside down: with the bottom at the top and the top at the bottom
2. in or into confusion: in or into a confused or chaotic state, especially one in which the natural order or arrangement of things is inverted
3. disorder or confusion: a state of complete disorder or confusion

Today, for example, the Isle Royale Queen IV, for as-yet unexplained reasons, did not leave Copper Harbor this morning until eleven am. Instead of having arrived two and a half hours ago, they'll be docking in about forty minutes - unloading everyone - loading up again - and promptly heading back to Copper Harbor just as quickly as they can. The V.C. is full of curious people wondering where the boat that's supposed to take them home is, and backpackers will be getting a late start on the trail today.

Just a couple of days ago, in an event that was literally topsy-turvy, a canoe containing an adult and his two teenage daughters flipped right in the middle of Snug Harbor, in the midst of large waves and strong winds. Luckily, interp rangers Justin, Casey, and Andrea were on the scene. Justin directed matters from shore, Andrea brought life rings, and Casey drove the Cisco around to assist from the water. The now-damp canoeists, probably more upset by the new turn the start of their backpacking trip had taken rather than the water seeping into their boots, blew right into shore along with most of their belongings (only one small bag was lost to the depths of the harbor.) A destination of Moskey Basin was amended to Rock Harbor Campground, and Casey and Justin, in a show of manly prowess, kindly carried their canoe back down the trail to the public rack.

On a more personal note, I will probably soon be in "a state of complete disorder or confusion" as I board the Ranger III this Saturday morning and leave the island for the summer. It's a hard place to sail away from. I daresay that after my departure, the Ben East will also find itself in "a confused or chaotic state." Right, guys?

Hope everyone is enjoying their week, topsy-turvy, right-side-up, or however it may be.
Yours,
the Snug Harbor Reporter

We Do Work.

My father, an avid reporter of the Snug Harbor Reporter (but then, who isn't?) made a comment after reading a couple posts that was something like this: "Do you guys ever do any work around there?" He was kidding (I think) but really, it's a justifiable conclusion to reach after reading the SHR, as probably 75% of what I write about involves potlucks, pinatas, or celery sticks with dip. So, I am resolved to write a post about what we actually do while we're working - which yes, does happen.

There are now just five of us interpreters (and yes, I'll use the phrase 'us interpreters' since this blog is a part of the interpretation division) left in the Snug, since Sam left the island nearly two weeks ago. (Which is still very sad.) Our everyday duties include (but are not limited to):

• daily harbor walk programs


• daily evening programs in the auditorium (except for Sundays)


• manning the visitor center from 8 am to 6 pm every day


• greeting and catching the lines for every ferry boat


• giving an orientation to all Queen IV passengers


• writing permits for all Queen, seaplane, and private boat passengers


• leading tours to Passage Island and Lookout Louise aboard the Lodge's M.V. Sandy


• completing customs on anyone coming from Canada


• roving the Snug Harbor area, assisting visitors with trip planning, identification and historical questions, assisting with medicals, etc.

Whew. I apologize for the long and probably boring list. But with full or nearly full Queens every day of the week now that we're well into August, and pretty full Rangers and Voyageurs as well, you can see we have our hands full. The five of us divide the tasks between us every day, according to a scarily complicated schedule that Andrea somehow concocts and makes work every single pay period, which is a feat worthy of being called a superhero, I think. If you hear us talking about "A" or "B" or "C-2" schedules, it has to do with this. Don't ask.

Our days are full of answering questions like, "What is a loon?," "Where do I go to see the moose?," and "Can I please rent a kayak?" (We cannot rent kayaks. The dock attendant rents kayaks. We told you at the orientation.) We kindly point out the difference between blue-bead lily fruits (poisonous) and blueberries (delicious.) We identify flowers and trees and tell stories of shipwrecks and geological time. We call EMTs for blisters, point out the Stoll Trail, and, if you're Leah and Justin, occasionally rescue people from small islands.

It's generally pretty awesome.

Of course, interpretation is not the only division found in the Snug. Robert, in his house on the hill, runs the extremely vital water and power plants and assists us on the many days when the internet suddenly stops working for no apparent reason. He is often seen buzzing around in the golf cart, doing very serious things (I confess to not even knowing what most of them are.) Pete and Marshall, our LE guys, are always bustin' bad guys and checking permits, and very speedily on hand whenever we need an EMT down at the Visitor Center. They're keeping it safe and keepin' it real. We're a good team, I think. We make it happen, here in the Snug.

And so, yes, dad: we do work once in awhile. But what is life without some potlucks and swing dancing thrown in there??

The Dennis Long Dedication

Last Friday, August 12th, was the official dedication ceremony for the Dennis Long Recreation Hall. Planning and prep for the event has been ongoing all summer, so the buildup was huge. As usual, the huge buildup resulted in a huge success, with a well-attended, lovely, and safe event. As we said in our post-event briefing, at least in terms of medicals and law enforcement, "the event was uneventful." (If we were talking appetizers, however, the event was very happenin' indeed. Brett Jenkins, the Lodge's head chef, is a genius.)

The Rec Hall is a welcoming, open building with hardwood floors, knotty furniture, and a pool table, where Lodge employees can spend their free time (playing games, using the computers, watching movies) and every Thursday night, Lodge and NPS employees alike gather to practice our swing dancing under the guiding eye of Ranger Pete. It's the perfect tribute to Ranger Dennis Long, who, in 1969, was a twenty-year-old trail crew member who drowned after saving the life of his friend, a young concessions employee. The building, and Dennis' sacrifice, are testament to the power of friendships that grow on this island.

Several speeches from park officials, a moment of silence, and the unveiling of a sign, a plaque, and a portrait marked the occasion well. Dennis' story was told, the history of relations between the Park Service and concessions was recounted, and both Dennis' brother and the woman he saved gave beautiful, heartrending speeches. There were about 65 guests, a dozen uniformed rangers, and six Lodge employees on duty in the audience, and I believe we were all brightened by the memory of this young man's brave sacrifice.

And naturally, we got to celebrate new friendships and bonds formed after the ceremony, over plates of fresh veggies, ahi tuna, chocolate covered strawberries, and other delectables. Whilst wearing flat hats. Which we all look pretty darn good in.

In other news...

Life is finally starting to slow down in Snug Harbor, after a massively busy rush of visitors, although it still seems to be a big summer for medicals (recently: almost-carryout near Malone Bay.) The visitors that are no longer filling the Queen to the gills are missing out: we've been treated to day after day of sunshine, blue sky, and heat lately.

America, Farewells, and Interpreters at the B.E.

Yesterday was a sad day for the Ben East carnival crew and Rock Harbor interpretation in general; we lost the first member of our family to the cruel chill of oncoming fall. Sam Case, our resident painter, photographer, coffee brewer, paddler, and SCA interpreter left on the Ranger III yesterday morning. It's a heartwrenching sight, watching someone vanish into the blue yonder with the stretch of water growing between you. Casey let out a few howls of grief. We did get this excellent group shot previous to his sad departure, totally proving our place as the park's most photogenic department.

At our end-of-the-season interp party (theme: America) we got another fabulous group shot: the entire Snug Harbor interp team (theme: Awesome) including our valiant leader Liz from Mott, and Steve, housemate to most of us. The photo also features Leah's and my cardboard guitars (we are so productive in our time off.)

In all seriousness, I would like to say a giant thank you to Andrea and Liz, definitely the best bosses I have ever had, and all of my housemates and coworkers, who have made and continue to make this a truly incredible place.

Some shots from the America Party up at the Ben East, attended by the above photographed people, Pete and Marshall, and Paul, Scotty, and Steve from the Ranger III, as well as my visiting friend (the menu featured watermelon, grilled cheese, cheesy taters, apple pie, smoked salmon, macaroni and cheese, brownies, chips and dip, and many other delicious goodies):

I forgot to mention the tiny cheesecakes.

There were tiny cheesecakes. And they were awesome.

The sole representative of the color green was the macaroni and broccoli salad from Paul; we went truly American-style, baby.

Stay tuned for a new post coming soon: Tomorrow is the big Dennis Long ceremony at the new rec hall, which Snug Harbor is revving up for.

Moose, Chris-like and Otherwise, etc.

Last Friday, July 29th, was the some-number (exact data has been lost to time) annual NPS Chrismoose Bash on Mott Island.

There was a relay race, a beautifully painted milk jug filled with champagne, an inflatable moose, live fiddle music and dancing, and some ridiculously delicious food - a huge, long table full of it. Nachos and corn and turkey, oh my! Dozens of NPS employees, family, and friends gathered outside on crowded picnic tables to talk, laugh, and eat their fill. The arrival of the thousands of mosquito troops, who are possibly trained to seek out Chrismoose celebrations, could not dampen the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, due to my work schedule that day (and the arrival, on the Ranger III, of my adorable grandparents) I missed much of the festivities and don't have many photos, so I encourage all readers to seek out Mottites (and possibly a CD of Chrismoose photos that I hear is in the NRM office) for more stories and photos of epicness. I am sure there are many.

Meanwhile, actual moose have been suffering through this preposterous heat wave along with the rest of us (and, yes, I know, here on Isle Royale we have no right to complain, as visitors from Texas or Oklahoma tell me.) Unlike us, however, when they get fed up with the heat, instead of continuing to walk around in long wool pants they just march into a lake. (You have no idea how tempted I am to follow their lead on some of these hot days; I might start leading an interpretive program waist-deep in Tobin Harbor.) The above moose (a female sans calf) is chilling out in Hidden Lake, munching on some aquatic veggies and totally ignoring the two ducks who followed her around like less-cool younger siblings.

While most of our days lately have been shiny-hot and sunny (check out the Rock Harbor Lighthouse piercing that bright blue sky) we did have a spell of rain yesterday, which brought some much-loved cool air and breeze into the Snug. Naturally, after about an hour, the rain and breeze disappeared and a stifling hot mugginess settled over the harbor again, bringing with it much rejuvenated mosquitos.

It's August, now, though, and this is what we've got: hot blue sky, rain that leaves as suddenly as it arrives, full boats and teary departures (most of the Plumer family and many concessions employees left us today) - and, of course, wicked cool mushrooms.