Another morning and still on vacation! Breakfast at the Inn this morning was smoked salmon in scrambled eggs. A little cream cheese in the eggs made them creamy and wonderful. Also, there were strawberry smoothies and asparagus. We checked out and drove to Grand Marais. Kathy found a quilt shop. I looked for coffee—couldn’t find good coffee, so had to settle for fudge instead. We went to the little bookstore by the shore, Drury Lane, and browsed. I picked up “Grass Roots: The Universe of Home,” the last book written by the late great prairie kid, Paul Gruchow. I’m looking forward to reading it someday when I catch up with life
We had lunch at the Angry Trout, a nifty restaurant that sits on a jetty extending into the bay in Grand Marais. There’s additional outdoor seating on docks that are on two sides of the jetty. It’s a great location for a restaurant and a great restaurant. One of the restaurant’s claims to fame is the bathroom. Since the entire restaurant sits over the lake, plumbing a bathroom within the restaurant was an issue. So the bathroom is located in a small building on the shore. It is unique in that way, and in the fact that it’s a unisex bathroom. Finally, it is unique in that it has a really cool tiled mural covering the walls and floor. The problem is actually getting into the bathroom. Since there’s only one serving the restaurant, there was a line. I suspect that many of the people standing in line didn’t need to use the facilities, but were there to scope out the tiles. I was amused that one of the servers wore a t-shirt with a message printed on the back that said, “Through the front door. It’s the little building with the green door.” I assume she got tired of telling customers where the bathroom was, and this way could just turn around.
Also cool & worth noting: The Angry Trout tries to buy locally—produce, locally caught fish, and hand-harvested wild rice. They also advocate sustainability—they are powered by their own windmill.
After lunch, we got back into the car & headed north. We stopped at Judge Magney State Park and walked a mile and a half to the High Falls Cauldron. Actually Kathy walked. I gimped. My knee was still being problematic. On level terrain, it wasn’t too bad, but going up or down was painful and the mile and a half was pretty much down, except when it was up. And going back it was generally up, excluding the down places. The foliage was very green though, with undertones of red and orange where fall had tinged the leaves. And the water rushed, roared, and created a mist around the cauldron. My knee survived.
Getting back from the walk, we realized that it was late and we had a long distance yet to drive to reach our next B&B by check-in time. In addition, I had more or less forgotten that the time would change when we crossed the border into Canada. Getting through the border check slowed us down a little, and then, once we were across, we realized that we still had to drive quite a distance past Thunder Bay before we would get to the El Dorado Beach Bed and Breakfast. Once we were into Canada and beyond Thunder Bay, we discovered that the character of the Canadian north shore was quite different from the Minnesota side. The lakeshore had collections of summer homes in spots, but beyond the lakeshore, even on the highway, gas stations, restaurants, or any kind of retail establishment were rare. Gone were the kitschy little souvenir stands, and the plethora of other stores catering to tourists that line Highway 61. We drove for nearly a half-hour beyond Thunder Bay before we finally found the turn-off that took us down to El Dorado Beach.
We arrived well beyond check-in time. The El Dorado Beach B&B was not eye-catching. It was a house. The setting, however, is wonderful. The hostess, Marie Harding, also happens to be the El Dorado Beach mayor. Our spacious room faced the lake, but unfortunately, since we were there mostly at night, and just for one night, we didn’t get to appreciate the view.
It was well past the dinner hour and quite dark when we ventured out for dinner. Marie had suggested we go to a truck stop that we had passed a few kilometers back on the highway, so we ventured back there It was good, I suppose, for local color, but the food was forgettable. We took an incredibly circuitous route back to the B&B from the truck stop, drove down lots of tiny winding roads along the lake, and turned around at a lot of dead ends so Kathy could develop a running route for the next morning. When we finally got back to El Dorado, we went right to bed so Kathy could get up early to run.
We had lunch at the Angry Trout, a nifty restaurant that sits on a jetty extending into the bay in Grand Marais. There’s additional outdoor seating on docks that are on two sides of the jetty. It’s a great location for a restaurant and a great restaurant. One of the restaurant’s claims to fame is the bathroom. Since the entire restaurant sits over the lake, plumbing a bathroom within the restaurant was an issue. So the bathroom is located in a small building on the shore. It is unique in that way, and in the fact that it’s a unisex bathroom. Finally, it is unique in that it has a really cool tiled mural covering the walls and floor. The problem is actually getting into the bathroom. Since there’s only one serving the restaurant, there was a line. I suspect that many of the people standing in line didn’t need to use the facilities, but were there to scope out the tiles. I was amused that one of the servers wore a t-shirt with a message printed on the back that said, “Through the front door. It’s the little building with the green door.” I assume she got tired of telling customers where the bathroom was, and this way could just turn around.
Also cool & worth noting: The Angry Trout tries to buy locally—produce, locally caught fish, and hand-harvested wild rice. They also advocate sustainability—they are powered by their own windmill.
After lunch, we got back into the car & headed north. We stopped at Judge Magney State Park and walked a mile and a half to the High Falls Cauldron. Actually Kathy walked. I gimped. My knee was still being problematic. On level terrain, it wasn’t too bad, but going up or down was painful and the mile and a half was pretty much down, except when it was up. And going back it was generally up, excluding the down places. The foliage was very green though, with undertones of red and orange where fall had tinged the leaves. And the water rushed, roared, and created a mist around the cauldron. My knee survived.
Getting back from the walk, we realized that it was late and we had a long distance yet to drive to reach our next B&B by check-in time. In addition, I had more or less forgotten that the time would change when we crossed the border into Canada. Getting through the border check slowed us down a little, and then, once we were across, we realized that we still had to drive quite a distance past Thunder Bay before we would get to the El Dorado Beach Bed and Breakfast. Once we were into Canada and beyond Thunder Bay, we discovered that the character of the Canadian north shore was quite different from the Minnesota side. The lakeshore had collections of summer homes in spots, but beyond the lakeshore, even on the highway, gas stations, restaurants, or any kind of retail establishment were rare. Gone were the kitschy little souvenir stands, and the plethora of other stores catering to tourists that line Highway 61. We drove for nearly a half-hour beyond Thunder Bay before we finally found the turn-off that took us down to El Dorado Beach.
We arrived well beyond check-in time. The El Dorado Beach B&B was not eye-catching. It was a house. The setting, however, is wonderful. The hostess, Marie Harding, also happens to be the El Dorado Beach mayor. Our spacious room faced the lake, but unfortunately, since we were there mostly at night, and just for one night, we didn’t get to appreciate the view.
It was well past the dinner hour and quite dark when we ventured out for dinner. Marie had suggested we go to a truck stop that we had passed a few kilometers back on the highway, so we ventured back there It was good, I suppose, for local color, but the food was forgettable. We took an incredibly circuitous route back to the B&B from the truck stop, drove down lots of tiny winding roads along the lake, and turned around at a lot of dead ends so Kathy could develop a running route for the next morning. When we finally got back to El Dorado, we went right to bed so Kathy could get up early to run.
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