The House (and Town) That Hops Built

Perhaps the best part of travelling without a strict timetable is being able to stop wherever, whenever. This explains how we found ourselves in Milwaukee, a city that - to be honest - was not on my rather prodigious bucket list.

Located a few hours north of Chicago on the western shore of Lake Michigan, Milwaukee, it turns out, is a little nugget of malted barley filled with beautiful architecture, a vibrant riverfront, incredible art, and, oh yes, beer. Lots and lots of beer.

We are on our way to Door County, Wisconsin, which is a peninsula that juts out into Lake Michigan and is said to be the “Cape Cod of the mid-west.” We will be partaking in a five day organized biking trip. As we swung north from Chicago the city of Milwaukee presented itself for consideration. With several days still before we needed to be in Door County we were totally like, why not?

The night before we had been camping in Indiana Dunes National Park, a lovely spot except for two things: it was hotter than hell, and the mosquitos were abundant and thirsty. We had set up the tent which is both cooler and better protection from the mozzies than the van, but it was a sticky, itchy night notwithstanding. The fact that there are no campgrounds in downtown Milwaukee meant that we would need to stay in a hotel, one with air conditioning and comfy beds. Such a shame, but there you are.

Inside the future at the Milwaukee Museum of Art

Our hotel was about 20 minutes from downtown, and we headed first to the Milwaukee Museum of Art, which boasts a stunning building designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, who was inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright. The place reminded me of the space station from the 1968 film “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Its spacious underground parking garage also served as a convenient place to stash the van for the day as we walked around the city.

We spent several hours in the museum, which features a design exhibit (I love those) as well as an impressive collection of American and European art including, rather surprisingly, one of the largest collections of Georgia O’Keefe paintings anywhere. The museum deserved more time but after a few hours, we were hungry both for food and to see more of the city.

The weather was still hot and sticky, but we ventured out into the streets of downtown, heading first for the public market, which is evocative of the Pike Place Market in Seattle. Among the dazzling number of choices, we selected a place that made panini sandwiches. I chose a tuna melt while Barbara picked the Mediterranean, a combo of cheese, tomatoes, and peppers. The sandwiches were so generous that we each ate only half and saved the remainder for dinner.

From there we made a beeline to the “world famous” National Bobblehead Hall of Fame and Museum. Here you can see every sports star in history and many other famous political and entertainment personalities immortalized as a little plastic statue with an oversize head that is attached with a spring. Why? Again, I ask why? We paid $5 each for admission and then paid our respects. I was disappointed not to find any of the Marx Brothers there. Nor did I see Steve Jobs or Tim Cook. However, Judy Garland was there in her Dorothy persona, as all the U.S. Presidents and Mr. Spock from Star Trek, his hand in the traditional hand shape of the Kohanim. Live Long and Prosper, old friend.

…to boldly go where no head has bobbled before.

Next we walked around the downtown and along the river. The river has multiple bridge crossings, all of which open to allow boat traffic through. Some of the bridges open drawbridge style while others lift straight up into the air like an elevator. Regardless of how they open, when they do all foot and vehicle traffic on the bridges comes to a halt while the boats go by below. At one such crossing, I spotted the Vista Queen, which, the internet informed me, has a sightseeing tour every day at 2 pm. We had obviously missed that day’s tour, which clinched the argument already raging in my brain. We’d need a second day in Milwaukee.

But first there was a required visit to Downtown Books, a massive used bookstore on Wisconsin Ave. More overwhelming than the sheer number of books was the geography of the store, with books towering from floor to the tops of the 15-foot ceilings. You’d need binoculars to read the titles on the highest shelves. Just the cookbook section alone was dozens of shelves filed by title rather than by author or cuisine. In short, it was impossible to find anything that you might be looking for except by chance. I left without making a purchase.

Emerging from our hotel on day two, we were struck by a chilly and meaningful breeze. Sometime during the night, autumn had swept in and temperatures had plunged. The crisp air was a relief after the sweltering days of the past week.

Soon we were parked near the dock for the Vista Queen and walking through the urban campus of Marquette University, a private, Jesuit institution, toward the mansion built by Captain Fredrick Pabst, 19th century steamboat captain and beer magnate. The good cap’n built the mansion (now a museum) in the late 1800s to celebrate his wealth and good fortune and to house his family on what was then Milwaukee’s poshest boulevard, the appropriately named Grand Avenue.

Pabst Mansion: the house that hops built

A struggling immigrant from Saxony (now part of Germany), Pabst had begun life with very modest means, making a living bussing restaurant tables and eventually working his way to becoming the captain on a lake steamboat. He married into the beer business, and his father-in-law taught him all there was to know about brewing. The captain eventually took over the business. I am not sure if Pabst Blue Ribbon was as bad a beer then as it is today but people must have had a taste for the stuff. He made a fortune.

The mansion is breathtaking. Much of it has original furnishings, wall coverings and floors. Ahead of its time, the mansion had electricity, an elevator, even a telephone (albeit one attached to the wall) at the time of its construction. The hour-long tour was excellent. Unlike most of these kinds of tours, you can go anywhere in the house. There are no ropes and no restrictions except don’t touch anything and don’t sit on the furniture. Our guide was knowledgeable and amusing. Sadly, I am sorry to report we weren’t offered so much as an ounce of beer. The captain himself apparently preferred wine. The house has a wine cellar with a capacity of more than 3,000 bottles. All of which have long since been consumed.

With our cruise departing in less than 90 minutes, lunch was the next priority and, on our way, back to the dock we stumbled on Brick 3 Pizza, which claims to be “Bringing the Big Apple to Milwaukee.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I thought.

Four slices at Brick 3

With our optimistically large eyes, we ordered two slices each. I got a cheese slice (there is nothing more defining of the class than the cheese slice) and a Californian, which had fresh tomatoes and, as it turned out, enough garlic to discourage even the most amorous vampire. Barbara got a slice of Californian as well along with one that was spinach and feta. The four slices flew into to the traditional stainless steel pizza ovens (not sure where the “brick” comes in) and a minute or two later were delivered to our table on paper plates. They were hot enough to scald the skin off the roof of ones mouth, which I proceeded to do without further ado.

The pizza was a very respectable New York slice. The crust was perfectly thin, the cheese stretchy and a little sour, the sauce light and tart (not sweet). New York style pizza is always judged pass/fail. This passed easily.

We each ended up saving one of our slices to eat later. We complimented the man behind the counter (the owner, I am guessing) and found out that he hailed from Staten Island. I told him that I was born in Queens. It turned out both our earliest memories were of the 1964-65 World’s Fair.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Staten Island isn’t really New York City.

Upscale condos line the Milwaukee River

Pizza box in hand, we dashed off to our rendezvous with the Vista Queen.

We found seats in the bow of the boat and soon we were underway. We were soaring under the bridges that we had walked across the day before. Our young guide was mostly very knowledgeable, though she identified a 19th century red brick building that looked to me like New York’s Carnegie Hall as “Brutalist” architecture. Barbara and I looked at each other bewildered but the guide was quickly schooled by the boat captain. The next time she pointed out a Brutalist building, she got it right.

The art museum as seen from the lake

From the boat we got an up-close view of the city’s historic Third Ward before heading out into the waters of Lake Michigan for a gorgeous view of the city skyline and the aforementioned art museum. It was chilly and windy on the water especially in the bow of the boat and we were pretty happy to get back to the dock and head back to the hotel for a few IPAs (not PBRs) chilling in the fridge.

The list of the world’s great cities is long. London, New York, L.A., Paris, Tokyo, Trenton. These are the destinations we put on the list and check off when/if we finally get to visit. But often it is the places you end up by accident that have the greatest capacity to surprise and delight. Perhaps it is precisely because we come to such places without expectations, without demands, without anxiety that they will prove worth the trouble, worth the funds expended, that we approach them with an open heart.

Milwaukee is just such a city. It graciously forgives you - not for having written it off - but for never having thought of it at all. Then it courts you with humor, good food, incredible art, and beer. It’s a place that makes you think: In different life I could have been happy here.

The world’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.

The World’s Most Beautiful Resort

They say if all you have is a hammer everything looks like a nail. Well, when you are traveling and sleeping in a Toyota Sienna, every accommodation without wheels looks like a resort.

I saw JBL for the first time in September of 1972. I was just shy of 12 years old. My dad and I had hiked in 3.5 miles from the town of Keene Valley in the Adirondack Park in upstate New York for a week of living and hiking in the back country. We carried everything we’d need for the week: food, sleeping bags, a stove. The plan was to climb some of the 46 mountains in New York state that are more than 4,000 feet above sea-level, on our ways to becoming “46ers.”

We did not bring a tent. We didn’t need one. We would be staying in an iconic Adirondack lean-to just steps from Johns Brook. It was a lovely, idyllic spot, but the accommodations are rustic to put it mildly. A lean-to is a 3 walled structure, open in the front. The floor may be wood planks or just dirt. In 1972 most of the floors were dirt. A roof protected us from rain, but lean-tos can be cold especially in mid-September when the temperatures can go below freezing at night.

As we hiked the last quarter mile to the lean-to we passed a somewhat more robust structure. This was Johns Brook Lodge, my father explained, established as a backcountry lodge in 1925. Softer, less rugged sportsmen than we could enjoy beds, heat, prepared meals, and flush toilets. My dad and I, however, had no need for such niceties. We were backpackers. The real deal.

We had a beautiful week. My Uncle Marty joined us on Thursday. We climbed seven mountains, and I left feeling that the Adirondacks was the most beautiful place on earth.

So when, in mid-August of this year my wife and I planned to spend three nights in the same area, we reserved a lean-to. But three days before we were to hike in, my wife in her wisdom, looked at all the stuff we were going to have to carry in and suggested that we see if there was space at the lodge. The lodge costs more than a lean-to but at just $79 per person with three meals included, Johns Brook Lodge is a bargain. They even gave us credit for the lean-to payment. As my 62nd birthday approaches I decided to embrace my softer side.

The only way to get to the lodge is to hike there. It is a relatively easy hike for the Adirondacks. You start from a parking lot a few miles from Keene Valley called “The Garden.” I don’t know why it is called that. It is not a garden – just a parking lot. The hike is about 5 km and just about 300 meters of elevation gain. The trail crosses burbling streams and in a year like this, lots of mud. We carried everything we would need for three days in our packs. This included clothes, raingear, sleeping bags, camp shoes, and sleepwear. We would not need: food, a bear canister, or a cook stove.

Arriving at the lodge, you are greeted by a member of the summer crew. The crew is made up of four young people (usually college students) plus a slightly older person who supervises them. The crew member checks you in and assigns you to a dorm room. Bunks are first-come, first-served.

There are four dorm rooms at JBL. Two with four bunks each and two with ten bunks each, for a total of 28 beds. The beds are a bare mattress (you must bring your own bedding) and a pillow.

In addition to the dorms, there is a main room where lodgers hang out when not on the trails and take meals at communal tables. There is a wood stove, but it is only fired from November through April. There is also a large kitchen where the crew prepares meals for everyone. Everything is made of wood. There is a rustic feel to the whole place.

Each of the ten-bunk rooms has a bathroom with two sinks with running water and a toilet behind a separate door. The flush toilets are gone. It was decided for environmental reasons that it would be better to replace them with pit toilets. Every year, all of the human waste is collected in big plastic barrels and lifted out by helicopter for processing in a local plant. Toilet paper is provided, however. Those in the 4-bunk rooms have to go through the other rooms to visit the facilities.

The grand porch of Johns Brook Lodge is great for basking in the sun durning the day or star-gazing at night.

The lodge has electric lights powered by solar collectors on the roof. However, there are no outlets for lodgers to charge things, nor any wifi. Cellular signal does not reach the lodge. To see the lodge and learn more, check out this fine YouTube tour.

Upon arriving early in the day, Barbara and I were assigned to a ten-bunk room and staked out two lower bunks catty corner to each other. It was a lovely warm day, and we spent the rest of the day until dinner time sitting on the huge porch in (what else?) Adirondack chairs reading and planning our hikes.

With no internet and no cell coverage, your only option is to socialize with the other lodgers. Such accommodations create instant affinity, and within minutes you are chatting away with your fellow travelers as if you had known them all your life.

Dinner was simple but plentiful: vegetarian chili, corn bread, salad, and a very sweet apple cobbler for dessert. At 10 pm, the staff turns out all the lights and if you aren’t already in bed when that happens you will be shortly.

I awoke in the night and went outside to see the stars. The sky was stunning. The moonless night was so filled with so many stars it was nearly impossible to identify the constellations. The Milky Way filled the heavens like so much star dust. There was no human noise. Just the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the brook happily about its journey toward Lake Champlain and the sea. I was loath to return to bed.

Breakfast is served at 7:30 am and is a carb-lovers dream. Pancakes, French toast, oatmeal. Some days there are eggs and treyf meats I can’t eat.

Lunch is a bagged affair, the assumption being that you will be on the trail. You have your choice of a peanut butter and jelly or hummus sandwich or you can have one of each if you think you will eat them. Also, a bag of trail mix and a big cookie.

There is a tap to fill your bottles with potable water and off you go.

On the second day, we returned from our hike at about 4 pm. There are no showers as much as I would have liked one. However, you can take a dip in the very chilly Johns Brook. The brook is fed with snowmelt and rain from high in the mountains, so it is plenty invigorating.

Dinner on the second night was black bean burgers. I wasn’t that crazy about them but there was ketchup, which made it work and the buns, baked on the premises, were delicious. Dessert was a shockingly sweet chocolate tart. We ate everything.

The following day, Barbara decided to relax and chill at the lodge so I did an easy(ish) climb of a mountain called Big Slide that I first did with my dad that September in 1972. The day was fine and blue, and I made good time for me, though I was quickly passed by a family with two teens that were staying at the lodge. The hike, though not terribly long, was challenging enough ascending more than 2,000 feet over 3 miles and requiring some scrambling up some rock faces.

I arrived at the summit just before noon and just in time to see the family that had passed me before they started down. I chatted for a few minutes with another family (a young couple and their mother/mother-in-law) eating my lodge-provided peanut butter and jelly sandwich before they too started down.

After they departed, I sat alone on the bare rock summit gazing out at the group of mountains in the distance known as the “great range.” I thought about my life and all that has happened in the more than 50 years since I had first sat here with my dad. I thought of my own children and how they too have come to love the natural world. I pondered this gift my father and mother earth have given me and wondered if I would ever sit on this spot again.

As I sat, a wind began to blow some large dark clouds in my direction and they began to fill the previously blue sky. It was as if the mountains wanted to remind me that behind the staggering beauty of the “forever wild” lurked danger for those who were overconfident or took their safety for granted.

I am not one of these. When I hike, I carry a map and compass, a GPS device and a phone loaded with maps and a backup power source. I also have raingear, a lamp, a way to make fire, a water filter and water purification tablets. Still, I didn’t linger too much longer once the clouds started rolling in.

I took a different trail down. It was shorter but steeper following a lovely brook most of the way. The brook eventually joins with Johns Brook and leads back to the lodge. I arrived a good hour before the rain started and cleaned up as best I could before dinner. It rained the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. It was cozy in the warm, dry lodge.

Dinner that night was pizza and although it was not as good as mine, it was damn good nonetheless. There was also homemade bread with garlic butter and dessert was a lovely white birthday cake with sprinkles. It was not too sweet and there was a lot of it.

Is Johns Brook Lodge the most beautiful resort in the world? I don’t know. I’m not even sure it is a resort. But, beauty is in the beholder’s eye, and to this beholder it is. True, there are no showers. The toilets are a bit smelly. And the food though tasty would not, I dare say, garner even half of one Michelin star.

Yet the quiet isolation of this place, the fact that it can only be reached under your own steam, the nights absent of human light or noise, and the unquiet majesty of the mountains that surround the valley speak to a kind of splendor that is too rare in our increasingly crowded world. Rare too is the sense of companionship in sharing such a place with a few other kindred souls who love and appreciate it.

The Adirondack Park sees many more visitors each year than it did in 1972. The park saw more than 12 million visitors in 2021. Yet it is still possible to spend a day here and not see another human soul. Most of the 12 million never make it into the back country. Those that do are often in a few popular areas. When you are miles from a paved road on an unmarked herd path, there is still a sense of the wild, of wilderness and yes, of danger.

I am too cynical to be confident that such places will always exist, but I am grateful that I was here while they did. I am even more grateful for the time I spent therein.

Life’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.

Be Prepared!

“EDC is a collection of various, handpicked items carried on a daily basis. More importantly, it is a systematic approach to being prepared for anything the day requires.”

— gearmoose.com

Believe it or not there is a group of people who are obsessed with what is in their pockets or at the least on their person each time they go out. They call this pocket stuff EDC or Every Day Carry, meaning the things you never leave home without. There are entire YouTube channels and websites devoted to the topic. Some are more general and encompass all the items that might possibly be EDC such as: watches, pens, wallets, flashlights and more, while others drill down on one type of item, say pocket knives.

Then there are branches of EDC folks who are thinking along lines a bit more intense. These are the preppers and the survivalists who have bags devoted to allowing them to survive in a crisis of any kind.

EDC does not usually include the things that many people actually do carry every day. For example, a smart phone, a tablet, a computer would not be considered EDC even if you carry them every day. On the other hand, a notebook and pen could be EDC. EDC enthusiasts even fancy themselves a cohesive group (they’re not) and refer to themselves as the “EDC Community.” I have a fascination with all of this stuff and consume a lot of EDC and prepper content.

I was a Boy Scout for a few years. I didn’t think much of the paramilitary aspects of the group. Nor did I care much for accumulating merit badges or rank. When my troop dissolved when I was 15 or 16, I had only achieved the rank of first class, which was a long way from Eagle Scout. I was a Boy Scout mostly because we went on a camping trip every month and because I liked the gear that went along with camping: flashlights, lighters, lanterns powered by gasoline, compasses, and other cool stuff, much of which you could stash in your pockets.

One thing I did like about the Boy Scout “ethos” was contained in the scout motto: “Be Prepared.” Be prepared for what exactly? For anything!

Have you ever thought that when Tom Hanks’s character Chuck Noland got stranded on the Island in Castaway he would have had a much easier time if he’d had a lighter and a knife in his pocket? I have!

Sometime last spring I met my friend Scott for lunch at a “healthy food” themed restaurant in Fairfax, Va. As I sat down, I noticed that there were no saltshakers on the table. Fearing the worst, I drew a tiny bottle of salt from my pocket and placed it on the table as I sat down. “Salt,” I told him. “Just in case.”

He immediately insisted on my emptying my pockets and showing him what else I had. On the chance that it may interest you or even inspire you to add to your EDC, I’ll share the contents with you as I did with him that day.

Here’s what is in my pockets today and most days.

1. My keyring. Attached to it are my house keys and post office box key, a metal tube with a waterproof screw top that holds a two-week supply of levothyroxine (my thyroid medication), a bottle cap lifter, an AirTag in case I lose the key ring, and a mini rechargeable flashlight the size of my thumb.

2. A pocket knife. Most days I carry the Spyderco Chapperall - small enough that it doesn’t look like a weapon but large enough to cut slices of apple or open a box.

3. A lighter. (See Chuck Noland above). A simple Bic lighter would do fine but I have the Tokyo Pipe Company Field L in brass because it looks cool and is refillable, not disposable. When camping I use it to light the stove, otherwise it sits in my pocket unless a smoker needs a light.

4. My wallet. I have several wallets but mostly these days I am carrying a very thin wallet from a company based in Singapore called the Taurus Camp Grain Wallet. It is a beautiful little thing with no breakable parts. Each one is handmade by the guy who owns the company. He sent me a nice handwritten note with the wallet. The wallet holds what you would expect - credit cards, ID, and a few banknotes.

5. The sleeve I keep my phone in, which also has an AirTag in its pocket because I lose this sleeve all the time.

6. A 15ml Nalgene bottle of Jacobsen Sea Salt for times when I am in a restaurant, or someone’s house and the food is under salted. This happens a lot.

In addition to what is in my pockets, I also often carry a manbag (a purse by any other name). I carry the Waterfield Crossbody Essential bag in the compact size. This company makes wonderful bags. All made by hand in their shop in San Francisco. I have a lot of them.

The contents may vary depending on what I am doing that day but usually in the bag is:

Crown King of Sporks

1. A pouch with charging cables for my phone, watch, and iPad, and a power brick that can charge three things at once. The pouch is also made by Waterfield.

2. A 500ml water bottle.

3. An Apple magsafe battery to extend the battery life on my phone.

4. A notepad.

5. My Esterbrook Estie Fountain pen.

6. Chapstick.

7. Earplugs.

8. A spork so I can avoid using disposable plasticware if I get food while out and about. (I love this one in titanium. but you can get a plastic one for about $3.50.)

9. Sunglasses.

10. iPad Mini.

11. Apple Airpods Pro 2.

12. Tissues.

13. Yet another AirTag in case I lose the bag.

Finally, I have ANOTHER bag that I keep ready to grab should I need to evacuate quickly due to a hurricane, civic emergency, or should the Proud Boys try to take over the council chambers of our town (population 400). Inside this bag is:

1. My passport.

2. A headlamp and another flashlight.

3. A battery bank charger for phone or other items.

4. HP 12c Financial Calculator, simply the best financial calculator ever made.

5. A 3-month supply of levothyroxine.

6. One pair of my prescription glasses.

7. A multi-tool with screwdrivers, a blade, a can opener, and a corkscrew.

8. Aspirin, Advil, and Tylenol.

9. Band-Aids.

10. A simple toiletry bag with toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, nail clippers, and contact lens solution.

11. A notebook.

12. A three-month supply of fountain pen ink.

13. 6 KIND bars.

14. $10,000 in diamonds.

Ok, that last item is not true. However, I do have a roll of U.S quarters and a Canadian Loonie.

When I travel, all the pocket stuff and both bags go with me, and if I am hiking my backpack has a few additional items to survive a night in the woods:

1. A compass and a real physical map.

2. A water filter

3. A Garmin GPS device and extra batteries.

4. Another lighter.

5. A rain jacket.

6. A headlamp.

7. A long sleeve shirt.

8. A warm hat.

All of which to say, that when, last Wednesday, my wife and I underestimated the time needed to complete our ambitious hike in the Adirondacks and found ourselves in the backcountry with another hour and a half still to go after sunset, we were ready. We whipped out our headlamps, strapped them to our heads and hiked on in the moonless night to arrive safely back at the trailhead where the van waited.

The world’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.