Tomorrow heralds the official beginning of the summer season. With June 21st come visions of melting popsicles, the crackle and pop of fireworks exploding in patriotic symphonies, and the sweet sticky fingers that come with enjoying a juicy red watermelon freshly plucked from the earth. These elements embody much of the joy summer brings. Yet, despite the calendar’s insistence, for me summer doesn’t officially start until you have access to one thing:
Water.
Summers are made to be spent at the lake. Our lives unfold at a shrill pace that is possible to maintain for dedicated expanses of time, and yet every once and a while we are meant to take a step back, slow down, and breathe in the smooth crispness of fresh lake air. It is true what they say: The lake fixes everything. When life permits, we must go to the lake and allow ourselves to be remade whole.
Summer officially began for me last weekend when Cam and I joined my parents for a mini vacation in Door County, Wisconsin. While none of us had ever been to Door County before, we quickly fell in love with its quaint shops and restaurants, endless opportunities to explore the outdoors, and therapeutic Lake Michigan views.
If you are unfamiliar with Door County, it is the errant pinky finger[1] that makes up the right hand that forms Wisconsin. Often referred to as the “Cape Cod of the Midwest,” Door County is teeming with history, beaches, a claim-to-fame fruit[2], and all the other niceties that iconically define small town Americana.
Interestingly, despite the cheeriness[3] of this environment, Door County’s name comes from the French “Porte des Mortes,” which translates to “the door of the dead.” Indeed, Door County is named after the strait between the Door Peninsula and Washington Island, and this dangerous passage is littered with shipwrecks dating back to the mid 1800s. In fact, Door County alone is thought to have over 275 shipwrecks, with many of those catastrophes residing in less than 60 feet of water, which makes Door County an ideal destination for divers around the world. Lake Erie[4] Eerie, for sure.
While the four of us did not partake in exploring Davy Jones’ Locker, we did imbibe in many of the other notable amenities Door County has to offer: Namely, eating, drinking, shopping, and kayaking. Arriving a day earlier, my parents enjoyed a scenic bike ride to Eagle Bluff Lighthouse and a picturesque sunset complete with ice cream in Ephraim. Cam and I arrived Friday afternoon, and we were promptly greeted with the promise of pizza and good company at the Wild Tomato.
We stayed in Egg Harbor, one of ten or so cities that dot the Door Peninsula. Egg Harbor’s quiet charisma and small town feel makes it reminiscent of Stars Hallow from the popular TV series, Gilmore Girls; in fact, one can practically envision Rory and Lorelai chatting over coffee at one of the many unassuming boutique-style eating establishments.
In an effort to celebrate its namesake, each local establishment hosts a decorative egg somewhere on its property. While each egg is different and represents the unique style of the business owner and the goods and services provided, the shared sentiment unites the community and brings cohesion to Egg Harbor’s identity as an idyllic icon of the Midwest.
After lunch we promptly headed to the next logical location: A winery! It is worth noting that Friday was unrelentingly rainy and chilly, particularly for this time of year, so it only made sense we would continue our Door County exploration indoors. Our adventures brought us to Stone’s Throw Winery, a locale voted Door County’s Best Winery in 2018. While Stone’s Throw imports its grapes from California, the fruits arrive within a mere 36 hours from being harvested, and all crushing is done on property in Wisconsin. We sampled six different wines varying from a rich cabernet to an oaky petite sirah and enjoyed learning about the vinos’ origins while spending time together.
After a rainy but scenic drive to Gills Rock at the tip of the peninsula, we decided to indulge in more of what the region had to offer at another winery, Harbor Ridge. For the second time that evening we enjoyed a sampling of various reds that complimented the beauty and earthiness of the region, and we were certainly ready for a hearty meal at Fireside when we had had our fill.
Saturday morning the skies began to clear, and after a slow breakfast we continued to explore downtown Egg Harbor via our hotel’s complimentary cruisers. We jetted around Door County in colorful beach-themed style[5] and stopped frequently to enjoy the harbor, track down a trolley, and peruse artisan shops.
While we didn’t cover a lot of ground, a certain peace came with casually cruising around town. It was almost as if we had permission to explore—we didn’t require a particular end destination or demand a sense of urgency to get from point A to point B—and this was particularly liberating. Before long, we all began to settle into the slow, relaxed rhythms that define life at the lake.
After a quick bite to eat we drove north along the peninsula to Mud Lake. Initially we had made plans to kayak on Lake Michigan where we would explore caves formed in the local bluffs, but Friday’s poor weather had prompted choppy surf that was just too rough to navigate. As an alternative, we embarked on a guided tour of Mud Lake, a beautiful body of water abundant with water lilies and profoundly filled with the exquisite sound of silence. Our tour group was small, which allowed us to fully experience the tranquil symphony of our paddles cutting through the water’s crisp glass surface and rippling softly in response to our presence. We were in nature, we were on water, and everything was as it should be.
Two hours on the lake led to hungry bellies, and after washing off the “mud” of Mud Lake[6] and made our way to the small town of Sister Bay to dine at the renowned Al Johnson’s Swedish Restaurant. Al Johnson’s celebrates seventy years in Door County and is famous for its authentic Swedish cuisine, charming décor, and Nordic-style “butik.”
Yet, the restaurant is most renowned for its curious building materials and accouterments: Goats on a grass-covered roof! As preposterous as it sounds, the restaurant proudly houses a small herd of goats atop its fine Swedish dining establishment so that the hardy ruminants can graze alongside hungry restaurant patrons.
Al Johnson’s is so proud of its goats that it even installed two “Goat Cams[7]” that record the goats’ whereabouts covering 95% of the roof’s sod surface. Notably the goats descend from their grassy lake view turf during the winter months (and after 6:00PM, for that matter!), and every summer Sister Bay hosts an “Annual Roofing of the Goats Parade” to honor the goats’ reinstallation to their rightful seasonal homes. The parade serves to celebrate summer and inaugurate the beginning of another season of lingonberries and goat-roof-watching. Only in Sweden Door County.
Continuing the Nordic charm and festivity, we made our way south on the peninsula to another small town, Ephraim, which was buzzing with the excitement of the 55th annual Fyr Bal Festival. While the festival sounds like the name of a popular Pitbull anthem[8], it is actually pronounced “fear baal.” The celebration honors Ephraim’s Scandinavian heritage with a community-centric day filled with food, drink, music, crafts, and good-natured competition. The main spectacle takes place at sundown when a series of giant ceremonial bonfires are lit to symbolize the burning of the “Winter Witch” as winter’s biting winds and frigid temperatures give way to the sunny good fortune and long mild days of summer.
As we ordered our ice cream and located an ideal spot to observe the festivities, we couldn’t help recognize the seeming silliness of it all. Burn the winter witch? Well that’s certainly a little morbid, isn’t it[9]? What did she do? How bad could she really be?
And yet, despite the dark implications of burning someone at the stake—heretic or not—there was no “witch” figure to be found atop the wooden pyre. Rather, the surrounding area bustled with cheery tourists and vacation-goers from around the world eagerly anticipating the official close of winter and the emphatic hailing of summer’s illustrious good fortune.
The crowd cheered as the fire crackled and burned, and one good-natured festivalgoer even cried, “Burn the witch!” in playful jest as a large section of the wooden pile came crashing down. In this spirit, we could not help but give ourselves over to the well-intentioned festivities and reassuring promise of everything summer has to offer, and we watched on with childish glee as the Ephraim firemen lit the pyre and symbolically wiped winter away once and for all[10].
There was something intoxicatingly mesmerizing about witnessing the fire burn and the ashes break off and flutter into the cool ombre pinks and purples of the dusk summer sunset. Kayakers looked on from the water as the smoldering flames gave way to festive fireworks, thus marking a culmination to the drudgery of days past and thunderously welcoming infinite opportunities of the future.
Sunday morning consisted of a leisurely stroll through several additional shops in Fish Creek, where Cam and I found a stunning addition to our apartment décor: A red wooden bicycle that is packed with charisma and symbolically reminiscent of our profound appreciation for the sense of freedom that comes with cycling. We topped off our visit with a picturesque lunch at the Blue Horse Beach Café, where we munched on breakfast sandwiches while enjoying a stunning view of the crisp blue bay.
The lake fixes everything.
Even that which we don’t recognize within ourselves as needing to be fixed finds resolution at the lake. Not only is the water a source of serenity and order, but it is also indicative of our origins and a reminder of the great gift that is life.
We are born of the water, made of the water, dependent upon the water, and, if we let it, the water will bring us home. Nothing epitomizes summer more perfectly than that.
[1] Also known in some circles as a “peninsula.”
[2] Cherries.
[3] Not to be confused with “cherry-ness.” See what I did there?
[4] I’m loaded with dad jokes: I can keep this up all night! If nothing else, let’s consider it appropriate homage to fathers in celebration of Father’s Day this past weekend. Dads, we wouldn’t be what we are today (corny and scarred for life) if it wasn’t for your bad jokes: We applaud you.
[5] I particularly enjoyed the mini Wisconsin license plates!
[6] Which was notably nominal; despite it’s name, Mud Lake is surprisingly pristine.
[7] Not to be confused with Cam’s nickname (“Goat Cam”) when he’s working a vet shift at the large animal hospital. Want to check out the goats live? Check out the hyperlink!
[8] Not to be confused with THE Anthem, any time I saw a Fyr Bal banner (which was often, as they decorated every home and small business throughout Ephraim) Pitbull’s 305-inspired rhythms pounded through my psyche: “Fireeeeballllllll!” Dale!
[9] Try morbid, grotesque, and hauntingly reminiscent of the Salem Witch Trials that erupted out of mass hysteria and condemned over 200 women to death by burning and hanging upon suspicion of witchcraft. (Read: They were likely different or misunderstood from the majority of the Puritan population). Interesting choice, Scandinavia/Ephraim. Interesting choice…
[10] Or at least for now, that is.
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