We finally figured out where Cedric disappeared to all summer. Click here for more details. 

Inside Copper Country

My dad came up a couple weekends ago, and much to my dismay, he wanted to take a tour of the Quincy mine, an out-of-use copper mine that at one time in the 1860s was producing the most amount of copper in the country.



I had no interest in going underground, but I sucked it up and humored our guest. Luckily, it turned out we weren't going to be lowered into a shaft from above. Instead, they took us down a track along a very large hill, and we entered an old shaft through the side.

It was 41 degrees inside the mine, so they gave us jackets to stay warm (and hardhats to stay safe).



As they pulled us through the cave-like entrance, one of the first things we saw was a classroom carved into the mine. For a while, Michigan Tech students had classes here.

At one point the tour guide turned out the lights.

No thanks.

We walked inside an old mining house.

Happy to be back above ground. 

In Love

Yesterday morning I woke up early, bought a doughnut and a coffee, and took my book down to the canal. I saw a bald eagle outrun some cranky seagulls and watched cars pass over the lift bridge. I watched clouds slip over the large hill that is Hancock, Michigan, and listened to water splash below my feet. 

Here's way too many photos of what we've been seeing.  

A rainy day in Copper Harbor.

The Portage Canal separating Hancock and Houghton.

The lift bridge, or the local excuse for being late.

Houghton

Somewhere on Lake Superior

Cedric's been seeing some remarkable things too.

 More Houghton

Almost made it last year. Maybe this is the year.

Cedric refused to swim.

Interesting Houghton graffiti.

My walk home from school, a nice view of Hancock.

Today in the U.P.

Today we're coming back from Ironwood, a two-hour drive through pine trees and rivers and hills and some one-block downtowns with closed bars and restaurants that still have their EAT signs. Occasionally a friendly camper will pull over so we can pass, but because of the trees and curves and hills, it's possible to get stuck behind a slow-moving work truck for miles or to follow a spread-out pack of motorcycles that slowed down for the rain.

We set up our tent in Ironwood last night so I could attend some meetings for work, somehow keeping our tradition of always picking the rainy days to camp. Though we did finally, after three other camping  trips, have a small window of non-rain to make a fire and break out the necessary s'mores.

We now have until Monday to plan our semesters and make our adorabe little house less like a storage space for boxes and more like a home. Houghton already feels that way.

Of Bricks, Bridges, and Blue Doors

Yesterday, I postponed the packing and had a Minneapolis day:

For lunch, a friend and I walked the aisles of the Global Market, trying to decide between baguettes at the Salty Tart Bakery, a bowl of pho at Pham's Deli, a chimichanga from La Loma Tamales, Swedish finger sandwiches at Cafe Finspang, somosas from Holy Land Deli, or roasted goat from Safari Express. 

We wandered the four floors of the library... 

looking for the best view of the city...

...and then played with the movable bookshelves. 

Bridges were crossed.

Churches were visited.

Signs were spotted. 

 

  
Bricks were admired.

The river was there too.





We finished the evening on the patio of Aster Cafe--a few friends, the golden sunlight shimmering through tree leaves, the music from an accordion player floating in the warm August air, and cheese plates and champagne peaches brought to us by polka-dot wearing waitresses.

It's been a pleasure meeting you, Minneapolis.