Time flies when you're not having fun, eh? I've been sick with a summer cold/virus/thingy that I caught from my nieces and haven't felt much like doing anything except watch movies and blow my nose. So, after padding my cinema lexicon with The Matador, Inside Man, Big, and Once Upon A Time In The West, I'm feeling like my usual self again - except the nose, she runs! The energy's back, though. So I write.

Lessee, where do I begin . . . my birthday last weekend can easily be chalked up on the leader board of "Tyler's Awesomest Birthdays" right along side the Wild Mountain water park/my first Trek when I turned 11 and my twentieth in Redwoods Nat'l Forest where a perfect stranger in the neighboring camp gave me a birthday s'more.

We (Heidi, my brother, and my mom-in-law) went to Ely, MN to visit my Uncle Jeff and Aunt Carol and to enjoy northernmost MN. I hoped to see a bear. I didn't expect to do this . . .

A bear ate out of my hand!! I get goosebumps just thinking about it. A little explanation is in order: My uncle volunteers with the Bear Research Center in Ely and is quite familiar with the behaviors of said bruins. Also, most of the bears in the area know him because he's introduced himself to just about all of them. This bear in particular has known Jeff since birth so they have an understanding. Her name's "Solo" . . .

. . . because she only has one ear. She was attacked by a male bear when she was a cub and he damaged her ear so badly that it became infected and fell off. She's doing alright for herself now, though. She's currently fattening up for the winter (Jeff estimates her weight at 350). We were visited by more than one bear, too, including one that camped in front of our bedroom window during the night. It huffed and sighed and rested, and strangely enough, I felt like it was guarding the room. I got more than I bargained for on this trip.
The next day, I fished a bit - went around the whole lake, casting as I went - but I didn't really expect to catch anything since it was high noon and calm. Mostly, I just wanted to be out there, to experience the meditative cast-and-reel rhythm of fishing, to drift like a leaf on the surface of the water, to listen to the birds in the tamaracks, birches, and red pines. And I accomplished what I set out to do.
The lake's gorgeous . . .


. . . and very clear. I went swimming before and after fishing. I swam a ways out into the lake and dove to the bottom; about two feet below the surface of the water sits the thermocline where the water becomes very cold so after touching bottom, I shot to the surface, gasping. I stretched out on my back and floated in the more temperate waters, allowing the sun to do its work of warming me up.

We ate and played, visiting the bustling, rustic burb of Ely on Friday night to enjoy Walleye cakes, sweet potatoes au gratin, and strawberry rhubarb pie. Oof, I salivate just thinking about it. Yum.

On the way home on Saturday night, my mind kept going to all of the different sights and sounds of Ely.

- The Piragis Outfitters where my cousin, Jason, showed off some of his handmade coatracks and where I bought a new (and awesome) web belt.

- Going out in the dead of night, in a down pour, with Jeff and Brad to look for moose.



- The fearless red squirrels:


- The bears:

And others I failed to take photos of, including the Northern Lights which shone and waved as we travelled south. At one point, I leaned against the window and shouted "Quit beckoning to me, North Country!! I have stuff to do!"

Like blow my nose, for starters. This cold is ridiculous.