It’s beautiful in Northern Minnesota.
The arboreal forest is so thick you cannot walk through it unless you come across a short game trail. Once in the forest, mere yards from the shore, the water disappears, all sound is absorbed by the trees and the heavy undergrowth. There are no landmarks to guide you, and there is not a single hint of civilization. Without a compass and/or a very good sense of direction, you are lost. There are black bears, moose, deer, wolves, bobcats, cougars, river otters, beavers, porcupines, bald eagles - and those are just the animals we saw or suspected came through our campsites.
It could have been a great trip. And in some weird way, it was, but only because we survived.
Arrival - Our host and guide shall hereafter be known as Mr. Bob. His wife shall be known as Mrs. Bob.
Mr. Bob meets us at a marina in the middle of nowhere and ferries us to his lakeside cabin. There are no roads. The cabin is both rustic and modern, the forest closes in on three sides while the front faces the lake in a view that is beyond compare. Mr. and Mrs. Bob are very fortunate to live is such glorious surroundings, even if it is only during the months of May through September.
Red Flag number one: On a tour of the spotless, spider-web free, boathouse, Mr. Bob shows us his neatly stacked, slick, pristine, high-tech, fiberglass canoes. Two of them. He lovingly caresses the canoe he and Mrs. Bob plan to launch the next day and exhibits their hand-carved wooden paddles. He points out another set of hand-carved wooden paddles - older paddles.
Hubby, reaching for the second set - “So, are these our paddles?”
Mr. Bob, snatching the paddles from hubby’s hand - “No, these are your paddles.” Hands hubby a set of worn, frayed plastic paddles.
Hubby, pointing to second high-tech canoe - “Is this our canoe?”
Mr. Bob, laughing - “No. Your canoe is…” cue dramatic organ music, sudden gust of wind, followed by dark, ominous clouds, lightning and a crack of thunder…“over there…”
Scenes from Vertigo flit through my head.
Hubby and I walk over to the far end of the property to look at the Grumman, our canoe. It lays all by its lonesome across two two by fours.
Hubby, in a whisper - “This thing hasn’t been paddled since the Civil War. I think it’s Old Iron Sides.”
I look at the creature and think…I got a baaaaad feeling about this trip.
Flash of lightning…crash of thunder. Tippi Hedrin…The Birds…the Psycho falling down the stairs scene.
Red Flag number two: Supper is delicious…but…it is served to us in perfectly apportioned plates, the portion sizes fitted precisely to the approximate height and weight of each guest. It is made very clear that there will be no more and no less. We are instructed to pay attention to the color of our cloth napkin because we will know where to sit for any and all future meals by the placement of our color-coded napkin.
Cold wind blows through me, causing me to shiver. I swear I catch a glimpse of Alfred Hitchcock on the lower walkway.
Red Flag number three: After the dishes are done, Mrs. Bob asks - “What do you eat for breakfast?”
Me - “Do you mean for the canoe trip?”
Mrs. Bob - “Yes.”
Me - “What are you packing?”
Mrs. Bob - “Strawberry instant oatmeal.”
Me, in seizure mode - “Huh?”
Mrs. Bob - “Strawberry instant oatmeal.”
Me - “I don’t eat instant oatmeal. It makes me instantly hypoglycemic and then I get a migraine. Can we bring some peanut butter?”
Mrs. Bob - “No. The food is all packed.”
Me, hyperventilating - “But…but…”
Mrs. Bob walks away. In her wake, rain lashes the windows, wind whips the trees, bending them double. Lightning flashes directly above the skylight. I’m flashing on The Hound of the Baskervilles or possibly Murder in the Rue Morgue.
Red Flag number four: Mrs. Bob comes upstairs to our open sleeping loft. She thrusts two towels into my hands. “These are your towels for the duration of your visit. Do not lose them. Do not leave them lying around. Hang them on these racks,” she points to the wall next to our bed, “and no other racks. You may not use any other towels.”
OMG! OMG! OMG! What if I forget my towel when I go downstairs to use the shower? What color is my napkin? Strawberry instant oatmeal??? Old Iron Sides weighs a ton and there’s a big dent in the keel. My paddle is a ratty piece of black plastic. I toss and turn all night, knowing that tomorrow I will die.
Tomorrow - Day One - No good deed goes unpunished.
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Oh, dear. What an inauspicious start…
OMG this is not starting off good.
Shit, Julia, why’d you GO?! When things started piling up, I’da been, “Seeee ya!” Plus the minute the food discussion and towel discussion happened, I’d have smiled very politely and excused myself FOR THE DURATION OF THE TRIP.
Geeeeez. What did Mr. Julia think?
I am so glad that when I came to visit, you were all, “And see this entire shelving unit of towels and wash clothes? They are all yours. Plus if you’re down stairs, those are all yours, or if you’re in my room, all of theeeeeeese are yours too.”
*bliss*
And! I got cookies. I’m just sayin’.
On the other hand, I betcha your daughter got a hearty “I told you so” in there, huh? I may not have been a freak, but it sure sounds like the Bobs were. Yeesh.
Yes Chris and Amber…not an auspicious beginning, I know.
Mia! I was set up! Plus hubby kept kicking me and hissing…”be polite!” Politeness gets you killed! Yes, in my house what’s yours is yours and what’s mine is yours! And you can use whatever napkin you want, sit wherever you want, use every single towel….or even not use a towel at all! And my napkins are paper towels…not color-coded. Mr. Bob was my husband’s mentor in college. He is unique…
The color coding would have had me laughing. I think I would have expected that to be a joke. Also, in my world, you give your guests the best of everything you have and you cater to THEM, not the other way around. I know we share that upbringing because you are the perfect host, so what the f*ck happened to Mr. Julia’s mentor??? And what a rare rare fruitcake Mrs. Bob is to have found her perfect mate with a male clone.
People like this exist? You’d never get away with this in a book. Your editor would swear it was too contrived.
Erm…all those dramatic clues mean one thing, Julia. Run the fuck away.
But having said that, I totally would have stayed for I am nothing if not polite.
Can’t wait ’til tomorrow’s installment!
Seriously? Where did you get the recommendation to canoe with this couple? Yep, totally can’t wait to hear the rest of the adventure. (I already know you made it out alive … so at least that isn’t a concern. *g*)
It’s so awesome that Mr. and Mrs. Bob found each other. Now they should stay the fuck away from the rest of us.
Awesome post Julia. I have a feeling I’m going to be laughing over your misery, but this sounds like good base for a contemporary romance. If you can just figure out how to get two people who hate each other to take an adventure with the Bobs, they’ll come out of it united and in love. Right?
OMFG is that for real? I would be lost. ((hugs)) Sounds like a horror trip. And that woman sounds like Fräulein Rottenmeier (okay so probably won’t know the Heidi books but still).
And wtf is Strawberry instant oatmeal? Sounds icky.
And I warned you that canoeing in general is a bad thing. Nothing good can come from this. LOL
Bron…I’m not always polite. Hubby is. This was his friend.
Nina - hubby has known this man since college and he and his wife had been inviting us to canoe with them for several years. For unknown reasons, I’d always resisted despite enjoying canoe trips. Guess my instincts were correct!
Rebecca, I know! Isn’t it awesome that they found each other? They reinforce each others’ OCD! And yes, when this was happening I thought - a story will be born from this!
Susi - I can’t say you didn’t warn me!
All I have to say… colour coded towels…
Okay, I’m with Mia… not that I’d have necessarily trashed the trip, but I would have been all… here’s what I think about your strawberry oatmeal and your coloured towel… of course, that would have meant I would have needed a new towel… snicker…
You were far too nice. But let’s see where this goes, mmmuuuhhhaaawww.
Kris, wait until you hear about my towel incident on the last day. Oh man…
I think Frank Caliendo does a piece about horror movies, Guys, is any one here, eraweraweraw, gee, maybe there’s someone hiding behind the door, I should check,…
oh my freakin’ goddess! Were you paying for this? or were they friends/relatives, did you find the bodies of the real cabin owners under the second “good” canoe?
I have actually left hotels that had been arranged by members of my family. Red and lime green acetate covered furniture — a portable ac with bee hive right outside. But how do you keep the bees out - the guy actually handed me a can of bug spray. Non vi veddiamo mai! The second room was apparently over a terme because the place smelled like satan was farting down the hall, but it had awesome water pressure! You just leave when you gotta leave. Oh no! Julia feels ill, maybe it was the oatmeal!
No, Steph - these are old friends of my husband’s. Thus the “be polite” rules.
Sorry. I’m toooo old to be that polite anymore. I would have had diarrhea or hemorrhoids or something requiring an immediate return to civilization. Politely. Apologetically. But immediately.
Oh Annie - we were wind-bound. Could not paddle an inch! But I agree - politeness gets you killed and whenever I started to open my mouth, hubby kicked me and hissed…be polite! But, he and I did work together very well.
You’re a good one. The Bobs would have both been buried on there property and me and the hubby would have canoed around there lake and then went home. I don’t get along with anal people.
All of the “there” should be a “their”. I really do know better.
So Dana, what I’m sensing from you is common sense. You obviously use your brain - most of the time I do, but since these folks have history with my hubby, I bit my tongue and tried to tough it out. NEVER AGAIN.
I don’t think I want to spend any time with Mr and Mrs. Bob. They sound like something from a bad sitcom
OMG… You are going to prove to me that there is a reason I do not go anywhere where there is not a plumbed bathroom at the end of the day. I have no sense of adventure left.
Not off to a great start at all..I live in Minnesota, but haven’t been able to get up to six flags
Thanks for stopping by, Hannah!
Talk about weird… I would have faked illness (TB ) and left with whoever was willing to take me to the mainland. Ha! Ha!