Barker Lake Lodge

The WiFi network name is “VIRUS THREAT”. The owners don’t want leeches lined up outside the hot spot looking for internet service. I am amazed that the old Vaio can pick up the signal.

It was a long ride to Barker Lake Lodge, but I didn’t get concerned until we drove several miles along a gravel road named “Hemlock Lane”. The “lodge” appeared to be (and, in fact, was) off limits, so we followed a hand lettered sign to the “office”, where we were immediately ushered out and pointed toward Cabin 5. I struggled onto the deck, built (or plunked) several feet off the ground. Tripped over the step to get into the unlocked cabin. A familiar smell (exterminator) transported me back to some of the hovels I occupied in Montreal when I was in my 20s. Bob has never lived in a slum and does not know that odor. Whoever created the Barker Lake Lodge website did a very creative job with the pics of the "amenities".

Our host, David Palmer, rode over to Cabin 5 on his 1950s era Cushman after we’d moved in our things. There is no firewood, no ice, no fire ring and the lodge is unavailable because it’s been rented for a family reunion. Olympic coverage begins in a few minutes.  I have already had one stiff drink and am working on my second.  I am grateful to have a good tempered husband who isn’t blaming me for leading him to this hell hole. I know why Chicago gangsters came here in the 1920s: what law enforcement on earth would follow them here!

We can’t launch our boat here at the lodge, and the lake does NOT connect to Chippewa Flowage as the map seems to indicate. Not unless you intend to walk through the passage, that is. It is rocky and shallow, perhaps partly navigable by canoe. Bob settled on boating in Round Lake tomorrow, a dozen or so miles away.

I’ve moved from the deck to a picnic table facing our neighbor’s truck. For the first time in my life, I’m thinking seriously of taking up golf. The course behind me is empty, maybe because it’s located in a cow pasture. Looks like a good place for a novice to take up the sport.

In recent years, I’ve felt a little wistful thinking about my long ago youth, spent in the north woods. I’m in the north woods this evening, and am a little less nostalgic.