Up north

Martha has a friend, Jason. He turned 25 last week. He lives in a town of 75 people called Isabella, located in the North Woods of this state, less than 100 miles from the Canadian border. Myself and a large group of Martha's friends traveled north on Saturday morning. Snowfall was promised. There is no snow yet in Minneapolis. Plenty of ice and freezing rain though.

Towns get smaller and farther apart as you follow Lake Superior northwards. The temperature drops too, as do property prices. One could acquire a decent enough abode with a few acres of woods for less than $50,000. Sounds great, but what does one do for work? I'm not cut out for the logging or mining game so I'll continue to be tied to the big city for now. If you were a musician or furniture maker or something like that, then an existence in this setting would be quite possible. Nice.

We drove through Duluth, a university town of about 80,000 people. Lots of smoke stacks and heavy industry, namely Taconite mining and processing. Very nicely located on the shores of Lake Superior. I would imagine it is a great place to be in the summer months. Duluth had seen some snowfall in the last few days. No more than a few inches though.

Further north we drove. Towns and civilization disappeared almost completely. Pine trees were all that could be seen. Millions and millions of them covered every scrap of land. I would have liked to get out of the car and enjoyed the silence for a while. When I get my own automobile in a few weeks I plan to do many things like that.

We arrived in Isabella around 18:00. Here is the lowdown on the town: a few houses and one building that encompasses a restaurant, bar, liquor store, gas station and a motel. Kind of like at home, you know, the pub/shop/funeral-home one stop shop.

We convened on Jason's place of work and location of his birthday party: the restaurant, bar, liquor store... It was plain that this was going to be one serious redneck night out. On the wall hung many a dead and stuffed animal. At the bar sat many the silent and drunken man. Not much talk going on between anyone. The country and western music played loudly. We were of interest to the entire establishment because of where we had come from, the big city. Even thought this place was small and not as fast paced as Minneapolis, or even Navan for that matter, it was packed with interesting people that told me some of the best stories ever. I talked to guys who had been in World War II. I talked to guys who had never heard of Ireland. I watched men in their 60's eat vodka jelly shots with tea spoons. I watched the entire town get hammered and enjoy life.

I was shown photos of some local guys and a moose they had shot and then cut up for meat. The head alone nearly took up the entire back of the pickup truck in the photo and the man who shot it told me he culled nearly 700lbs of meat from that one animal. I didn't take kindly to the picture he showed me of the black bears they had killed. If there is meat on it, it gets shot. Pretty basic stuff. Four legs bad, two legs good.

It was hard to get drunk with the amount of crazy stuff that was stimulating me. Yes, sweet sweet drunkenness eluded me but enabled me to take away plenty of memories.

We went back to Jason's house sometime after midnight. Some of the braver guests took off the majority of their clothes and partook in the age old tradition of "rolling in the snow". Maybe next year. It looked painful but also one of those things I wish I had of done. Regrets, I have a few.