#Move to Okoboji

[inboundremblog]

Okoboji Population Trends, Community Stats, and Lifestyle

Credit: Image by Okoboji Realty

Okoboji is a beautiful town at the top of West Okoboji Lake in The Trick of Dickinson, Iowa. For years, natural views, health-enhancing exercises, gorgeous landscapes, and small-town value have aced Okoboji among the best spots for tourist attractions and prospective 'relocators.' However, what is the experience of the lifestyle of Okoboji, who is the population of Okoboji, and what can the Okoboji Population do for a living, or what kind of amenities are available in Okoboji? To accomplish these goals, in the next section, we will discuss Okoboji's population characteristics and economic base, as well as summarize measures of the well-being of residents within this small lakeside town.

Overview of Okoboji Population

Okoboji Population, Okoboji was discovered in the Iowa Great Lakes, which consist of several small towns surrounding different lakes in Dickinson County. The city is on the eastern shore of West Okoboji Lake, one of Iowa's most beautiful and deep natural joined waters. Stunning scenery and diversified recreational opportunities—whether for a vacation or an everyday experience—make life in and around Okoboji seem hassle-free.

Population Snapshot

According to the latest records, the permanent residents of Okoboji are still modest and below a thousand people. According to the most recent census carried out in the United States of America, only 800 people were living in a town. However, these figures may be inaccurate since many students arrive during summer. Some of its attractions include Okoboji, a famous tourist resort that attracts visitors from most of the Midwest. Because of that, the number of people who move to the town and rent dwellings for several months a year jumps dramatically in spring and summer. The town's population could hover around the thousand mark during this period.

This rise and fall in population is typical of Okoboji. For all the solitude of a rural town during the autumn, summer[idx] bears the characteristics of summer along with the bustle of tourists and campers. This is why living in Okoboji is so unique; it is both rural and touristy, peaceful and chaotic, and calm and exhilarating, depending on the time of the year.

Employment and Economic Opportunities

People often need to pay more attention to what job opportunities are available in Okoboji and the surrounding area; there is a good deal of variety. The local economy is supported by several key industries, including:

Tourism and Ecotourism

Over half of the resident's income is from tourism, the most active summer source. Merchants, Accommodation, Food and beverage, and other leisure activities depend on visitors' arrival. Many people visit places like Arnolds Park Amusement Park and Okoboji Nature Center, and some get jobs during this region's tourism season.

Other than recreational tourism, Okoboji has also embraced Ecotourism Here. This, coupled with the region's focus on environmental conservation, has set the tone for constant tourism all year round; come for hiking, bird watching, and boating, among other activities. People can look for jobs in companies that rely on the sustainable tourism industry, including tourist guides, companies offering guided tours to nature sites, and source conservation firms, among others.

High-Tech Manufacturing

However, Okoboji is a small town that forms part of the Iowa Lakes Corridor, and high-tech manufacturing businesses have steadily expanded. Adjacent cities such as Spirit Lake are occupied by companies that manufacture sophisticated operating instruments and tools. These firms provide employment opportunities for engineers, manufacturers, and logistics for individuals living within that region.

Wholesale and Retail

Despite strong manufacturing influence in the area, such positions can be attributed to Okoboji's wholesale and retail businesses. Many outlets range from individual stores and boutiques to larger retail stores targeting local people and travelers. This location also enables people in the town to access many products and services without traveling long distances in the Iowa Lakes Corridor.

Medical and Healthcare Services

Another primary industry in the Okoboji area is healthcare. These and other factors form the basis of job opportunities in the hospitals and medical centers in the region. Health services are accessible, close, and convenient, so Okoboji is perfect for families and individuals of elderly age.

Agribusiness

Many Iowans work in agriculture, and agribusiness is a vital, continuing element in Iowa's economy. Okoboji is surrounded by prosperous farmland that produces different crops and raises livestock. The local food industries offer employment in farming and related sectors. Of course, Okoboji is more of a tourist town based around the lake, but in the countryside surrounding the lake, there are opportunities for people who want to work in farming.

Living in Okoboji: Lifestyle and Amenities

Experiencing life in Okoboji is a perfect combination of traditional and rural, the great outdoors, and advanced and new conveniences. Whether you plan to live in Okoboji forever or have a home there for some time during the year, some things will make you appreciate living in the town.

Outdoor Recreation

Many people who relocate to Okoboji do so because of the various opportunities available in outdoor recreation. The town is situated in the heart of the Iowa Great Lakes region, which offers a wide range of recreational opportunities, including:

Fishing and boating activities, especially on West Okoboji Lake.

Having hamburgers and swimming and sunbathing at the local beaches.

Nature walks in the physiologically attractive terrains around the lakes and cycles.

Play golf on the local courses with excellent views of part of the lake.

Winter tourism activities include ice fishing, snowmobile, and cross-country skiing.

The people in the region are nature lovers because she is naturally blessed, and many people come to Okoboji to be neutral and remain one with nature. This is because the town is surrounded by parks and other nature reserves, which makes it possible for many residents to get fresh air and enjoy good scenery throughout the year.

Family-Friendly Attractions

For families, there are several things to do where kids willingly have a good time in Okoboji. One of the most popular is Arnolds Park Amusement Park, a historical park for riding, games, and live shows. Families may also go to Okoboji Nature Center for children to learn more about the fauna and flora of the region.

In addition to these places of interest, the town is highly inclined to the community spirit. Different ceremonies organized by local schools, churches, and community institutions occur throughout the year, so people are friendly.

Education

Despite being a small town, it is recognized by a quality school district. Okoboji Community School District provides education for children in elementary, middle, junior, and senior schools, and there are many activities for children outside their classes, such as sports, music, arts, etc.

For post-secondary schools, there are continuing education and vocational schools in Spirit Lake, a slightly larger community known as Spencer, two miles to the east. Residents also use it to travel to other cities for college education or to enhance their professional careers.

Housing and Real Estate

The situation, as depicted in the Okoboji real estate market, represents the town as a homeownership destination and a tourist hub. There is accommodation in cottages and villa-like facilities for vacations and houses-like structures such as individual houses and apartments. A densely proffered need for accommodation during the summer season increases property prices, but there are many bargains for people wishing to make new homes in these regions.

Regarding property, Okoboji allows one to live in a beautiful area close to the water if that interests them. Some houses for sale even have dock or lakefront facilities that make them perfect for water sports lovers. Also, due to the small population, people usually know each other and thus feel part of the community.

Who is going to move to Okoboji? Who will not? There are many factors to consider. On the one hand, Okoboji has excellent scenery, a quiet life, and recreational activities. You get to enjoy a peaceful, slower pace of life here, mainly when you are not stationed during the tourism season.

For Okoboji, seasonality is a blessing and a curse. With a clear distinction between seasons, Okoboji can make a lot of money in some months and hardly make anything in the other. Summer brings joy and a source of income, though the winter, many people may feel that the town is dull and lonely sometimes.

Last, your decision on whether Okoboji is the right place for you depends on your lifestyle choices. The Okoboji area is a beautiful track to set up a home if you are a family focused on outdoor activities with sentiments of tradition.

The most recent Okoboji population statistics, demographic trends, and key insights into this picturesque town located in northwest Iowa. Known for its beautiful lakes and vibrant community, Okoboji is a popular destination for residents and visitors alike. For more comprehensive information, kindly explore our website. https://okobojire.com/moving-to-okoboji/

Learn about the current Okoboji population and explore how this scenic Iowa town has evolved over the years.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

And boy, can these cats dive!

AVALON, SANTA CATALINA ISLAND, CALIFORNIA: Yours truly, in close company of Huckleberry Hound, had some chance time while on Catalina for the Avalon Harbour Underwater Cleanup with the likes of Peter Potamus' Magic Divers, the Divin' Wolf Pups and Top Cat's clowder--and the Catalina Diving Clowder, seven queen cats led by the ever-effervescent "Bubbles," who decided to join in the Harbour Cleanup just to show that "girls can do anything" as much as show something to the Catalina diving community.

At any rate, we're sitting on the Green Pleasure Pier in Avalon, close to a legendary fish-and-chips stand especially popular among tourists as much as locals. Not to mention having dive gear and fishing gear rentals. Yet to be in the company of not only "Bubbles," but also Lola, Jayne, Jessamaine, Jolene, Sabrina and Samantha is quite fascinating, especially with a winter Southern California sun out and mild temperatures which, in an earlier time, would have been enough for hosting the Iowa Picnic in Long Beach (which, I understand, is now in July).

Jayne, for her part, was asking about that Iowa Picnic thing, and Huck explained that such was where Iowans who had moved to Southern California, or otherwise spent winters there, celebrated their old home state in the middle of winter, usually impressing such stuck back in the middle of Iowa winters.

Which had Lola asking if the diving was any good in Iowa, prompting me to refer her to an episode of Underwater America with Peter Potamus as found the divers intrepid diving Lake Okoboji in Iowa's northwestern parts.

"All in all," Huck asked over his portion of battered fish and chips, "how did the cleanup go with you feline divers?"

"Bubbles," speaking practically for the Diving Clowder, explained their finding in Avalon Harbour's waters no less than nine wallets (all with cash and/or payment cards), fifteen mobile phones (all but two, as it emerged, having e-wallet apps including Google Pay, Apple Pay, Venmo and PayPal), two money clips, one briefcase and (among the more unconventional items hauled overboard by errant boaters) two plastic shopping bags filled with laundry (or so presumed) and some "marital aids."

"To think people would drop their smartphones into the harbour," Lola remarked, "and probably by accident!"

"It's bound to happen," Jolene kicked in.

"Might it surprise you gals to learn," "Bubbles" remarked, "that there's waterproof housings available for smart phones, which could make the dive a little more--how shall I parse it?--complicated, especially when you've got calls likely coming through!"

"Enough with smart phones," quipped I; "what about stoopid people?"

Enough to prompt a change of subject, as in "Bubbles" suggesting frying up some sand dabs during a diving expedition sometime.

"Still," Huck chimed in, "you need to catch them first.... and what did you have in mind to catch them with?"

Samantha suggested catching such with the claws of their forepaws and storing them in underwater netting.

"How will we know they'll still be around?" Jayne asked.

Which, after a brief moment of silence, brought the deck to laughter.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @artistic-octopus @iheartgod175 @theweekenddigest @joey-gatorman @funtasticworld @archive-archives @catalinachamber @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @thylordshipofbutts @thebigdingle @catalinablog-blog @warnerbros-blog1 @groovybribri @xdiver71 @jellystone-enjoyer @indigo-corvus @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @warnerbrosent-blog

[bojiboys]

Highway 9 from Sioux Falls to Okoboji is a parade of cars with impatient drivers, trucks hauling grain hoppers or livestock trailers, slow-moving tractors that are a bitch to pass, potholes, and enough roadkill to feed a redneck for a year.

[heyamandahey]

Farewell, 2021!

Well, it’s been more than a year since my treatment concluded. Since my hair has grown back, I have had the luxury of two haircuts and two perms to add volume. My little brother even got me a gift certificate to a salon in SoHo as my Christmas gift. So thoughtful!

Hair Status The hair saga has had its lasting impact, mostly psychological at this point. I waffle between growing it out as much as I can and never letting it get too long ever again. I think about what cancers or maladies I may face me as I get older, and I don’t want to lose a few feet of hair ever again, so I am tempted to keep it chin-length. It does not strike the same level of anxiety as it did in 2019, but these thoughts do cross my mind with regularity. 

As it’s been a few months since my last perm in late August, I have been petting the roots of my hair as it grows in straight. My roots actually do feel less baby fine than I remembered it being at the start of 2020. I’m pretty sure it’s still slightly finer than my old hair, but it’s okay! I can make this work.

Year in Review What new things did I do this year? Any firsts? Sometimes it is the little things ... Maybe they’re commonplace for everyone else, but then there are small milestones for the individual to uncover, and these are mine:

Asked for a raise at work (and got it!)

Dispatched a lobster

Walked a dog by myself (and picked up its poop!)

Took a pottery wheel class

Visited Disney World (Epcot Center)

My boyfriend asked me if I wanted to move in with him!

I am delighted to report I am still dating this guy I met back in April of this year. His name is Dan. He has really helped make the last several months fun and hilarious as we’ve collectively navigated the pandemic’s evolution and its influence on dining, drinking, and traveling. 

While I haven’t left the country since 2020, I have had the fortune this year of visiting the following domestic locations:

Annapolis, Maryland

Okoboji, Iowa

Newport, Rhode Island

Chicago, Illinois

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Orlando, Florida

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Tonight we will be cooking a few dishes together to ring in the New Year. Cautiously and optimistically looking forward to 2022! Hopefully there will continue to be new milestones.

This will be my last entry. I am declaring my journey with PMBCL complete. I will have to perish from something else, but today it is not lymphoma. Feel free to continue following me on Instagram or TikTok!

[investmart007]

IOWA | 600-foot no-wake zone placed at Iowa Great Lakes, Silver Lake

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/KqpvOX

IOWA | 600-foot no-wake zone placed at Iowa Great Lakes, Silver Lake

IOWA– The Emergency Management Commission in Dickinson County put into place a 600-foot no-wake zone along shore of East & West Lake Okoboji, Upper and Lower Gar, Minnewashta Lake, Silver Lake at Lake Park and Center Lake, effective immediately.

The water level on Iowa’s Great Lakes is more than two feet above crest, which is over topping docks, damaging shorelines and causing erosion.  The no-wake zone will be in effect until further notice.

DNR conservation officers will advise boaters of the no-wake zone and work on posting signage at the public boat ramps. The 300 foot buoys will not be moved to reflect the 600 foot zone, so boaters are asked to use the 300 foot buoys as a reference to double their distance from the shore before increasing speed above 5 mph.

“Boaters that don’t obey the 600 foot no-wake zone can cause significant lakeshore damage and potentially impact critical infrastructure during with these high water levels,” Mike Hawkins, DNR fisheries biologist.  “Boaters are asked to be mindful of their wake on all lakes.”

The emergency rule will remain in effect on East and West Okoboji, Upper and Lower Gar and Minnewashta lakes until the lake level drops below 6.05 feet and remains below that stage for three consecutive days.  The rule will remain in effect for Silver and Center lakes until further notice.

The DNR and emergency management officials will continue to monitor other lakes throughout the area to determine if action is necessary.

Souce; Originally published by IOWADNR.GOV June 26, 2018

[dwgirl2000]

So if you know me personally, you know that the past couple of weeks have been rough on my family and myself, but if you are also a Beatles fan, you will also understand why I would be shaking.. I have been getting my records from Paul at Red Truck Records since he opened in Arnold's Park, but he's a great guy with an awesome supply! He recently moved closer to Antiques of Okoboji, which is across from the Kum and Go in Okoboji. If you are a vinyl collector or a Beatles finatic like I am, I HIGHLY suggest giving Paul your peace, love, attention, and business (of course!) at Red Truck Records in Antiques of Okoboji ✌🏻💕 (at Red Truck Records)

[andrewdburton]

The crossover point: How to know when you’ve achieved financial independence

Today I want to introduce you to the Crossover Point, that magical place where you have enough saved that you can live off your investment returns. To start, let’s talk about one of my money heroes, billionaire Warren Buffett.

Buffett wasn’t always a billionaire. He started from scratch, just like you and me. Here he is in 1948 — when he had less than $10,000 to his name:

What a dork!

Buffett began making money when he was six years old. He’d buy packs of chewing gum for three cents each, then go door to door selling them for a nickel. (He refused to sell individual sticks; you had to buy an entire pack of Doublemint or nothing.)

“He could hold those pennies, weighty and solid, in his palm,” writes Alice Schroeder in her excellent Buffett biography. “They became the first few snowflakes in a snowball of money to come.”

From chewing gum, Buffett graduated to soda pop. He sold bottles of Coca-Cola to his neighbors in Omaha, and he even peddled his wares to sunbathers while vacationing at Lake Okoboji in Iowa. Buffett sold used golf balls. He hawked peanuts and popcorn at University of Omaha football games.

All the while, he kept score. He deposited his pennies and nickels in the bank and kept track of his savings in a passbook.

At a young age, Buffett began to grasp the extraordinary power of compounding. Again from Schroeder’s book: “The way that numbers exploded as they grew at a constant rate over time was how a small sum could turn into a fortune. He could picture the numbers compounding as vividly as the way a snowball grew when he rolled it across the lawn.”

When he was ten years old, Buffett vowed to become a millionaire by age thirty-five. By the time he turned eleven, he’d accumulated $120. He used his cash to buy his first three shares of stock. He had 24 years and $999,880 to go to meet his goal.

Buffett’s Snowball of Money

When Buffett left Omaha for college at age 20, he’d saved $9804, some of which was in stocks. He moved to New York to attend Columbia University, where he took finance classes from Benjamin Graham and David Dodd. He continued to invest, both for himself and now for family and friends. He wrote articles about the stock market. (Even back in 1952, he was obsessed with GEICO stock.) He bought his first business, a service station.

Buffett got married and had kids. He earned more money, both from work and investing. All the same, he was reluctant to spend. He was frugal — almost miserly. He didn’t like to buy new clothes. He made a deal with a nearby newsstand to purchase outdated magazines at a discount. For a long time, he didn’t own a car. (After he did purchase a vehicle, he’d only wash it when it rained.)

Like a money boss, Buffett kept his costs down while boosting his income.

“For Warren, holding on to every penny this way, since he had sold that first pack of chewing gum, was one of the two things that had made him comparatively rich at age twenty-five,” writes Schroeder in The Snowball. The other contributing factor? Buffett was making money at an ever-increasing rate.

The years and decades passed. Buffett continued to invest. His snowball grew exponentially.

By age 11, Buffett had saved $120.

By age 21, Buffett had a net worth of $19,738.

By age 26, Buffett was worth $140,000.

By age 30 — five years ahead of schedule — Buffett was a millionaire.

By age 40, Buffett had more than $25,000,000.

By age 50, Buffett had accumulated over $150,000,000.

By age 60, Buffett had become a billionaire.

Today, Warren Buffett is worth $84.1 billion. He’s the third-richest man in the world. During his 85 years, he’s created the greatest wealth snowball the world has ever seen.

And it all started with chewing gum.

I can’t promise that you and I will become billionaires. In fact, our chances of doing so are exceedingly slim. But I can promise that if you follow the advice I share at Get Rich Slowly, you will produce a modest wealth snowball of your own. And if all goes well, you’ll eventually reach that Crossover Point where you can live off your investments for the rest of your life.

Your Wealth Snowball

You begin rolling your wealth snowball the moment you achieve a positive cash flow — as soon as you’re earning more than you spend. Each penny of profit adds to your fortune.

When you stay late to work overtime, you add do your wealth snowball.

When you choose to bike instead of drive, you add to your wealth snowball.

When you decide to downsize your home or work a second job or skip the new iPhone, you add to your wealth snowball.

The bigger your profit margin, the faster the snowball grows.

It’s not just earning and spending that affect your wealth. Your investment returns play an important role too. In the short term, your contributions have a greater impact than investment performance, but over the long term the extraordinary power of compounding comes into play.

Assume you make a one-time $5000 contribution to your retirement account at age twenty and manage to earn an 8% return every year. If you never touch the money, your $5000 will grow to $159,602.25 by the time you’re sixty-five years old. But if you wait until you’re forty to make that one-time investment, your $5000 would only grow to $34,242.38 before you retire. Compounding is the reason it’s so important to begin investing when you’re young!

When you add to your wealth snowball regularly, its growth accelerates.

If you were to invest $5000 each year for forty-five years, for instance, and if you left the money to earn an 8% annual return, your savings would total over $1.93 million. You’d have more than eight times the amount you contributed. This is the power of compounding.

Because you’re a money boss, you don’t want to wait forty-five years to achieve Financial Independence. You want to reach your Crossover Point in ten or fifteen years, not fifty. With a short investment horizon, there’s less time for compounding to do its work. That’s why it’s so important to save half of your income — or more.

Here’s what Mr. Money Mustache calls the shockingly simple math behind early retirement:

With a 10% profit margin (or saving rate), you’d need to work for 50 years to reach Financial Independence. Your wealth snowball grows — but not quickly.

With a 20% profit margin, you’d need to work for 37 years to achieve Financial Independence.

With a 35% profit margin, you’d need to work for 25 years to achieve Financial Independence.

With a 50% profit margin, you’d only need to work for 17 years to achieve Financial Independence.

And if you can manage to save 70% of your income, you could achieve Financial Independence in 8-1/2 years!

Pull out your personal mission statement. Look at your goals. Your profit margin directly affects how quickly you’ll achieve these aims. The sooner you grow your wealth snowball, the sooner you can do the things you dream of doing.

The Crossover Point

At some point in the future, your wealth snowball will be so large that it’ll last the rest of your life. You’ll never have to work for money again unless you choose to. It’s at this point that you’ll have reached Financial Independence.

At this crossover point — a term coined by Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin in Your Money or Your Life — your investment returns provide more money than you spend.

Realistically speaking, it’s important to have a margin of safety. (In fact, this is one of Warren Buffett’s core beliefs!) To that end, I make the following assumptions when I calculate whether somebody has reached the Crossover Point:

You’ll spend as much in the future as you do now. (About one third of people spend more, one third spend less, and one third spend the same.)

If you withdraw about 4% from your savings each year, your wealth snowball will maintain its value against inflation. During market downturns, you might need to withdraw as little as 3%. During flush times, you might allow yourself 5%. But around 4% is generally safe.

Based on these assumptions, there’s a quick way to check whether or not the Crossover Point is within your reach.

Multiply your current annual expenses by 25. If the result is less than your savings, you’ve achieved Financial Independence. If the product is greater than your savings, you still have work to do. (If you’re conservative and/or have low risk tolerance, multiply your annual expenses by 30. If you’re aggressive and/or willing to take on greater risk, multiply by 20.)

If you’d prefer, you can approach the problem in reverse. Start with your current wealth snowball and see how long it’ll last.

To keep things simple, we’ll work with net worth (the difference between what you own and what you owe). If you’ve already calculated your net worth, use that number. Otherwise, you can download or copy this net worth spreadsheet I created in Google Docs. (It’s still branded for Money Boss, but it’s now officially the Get Rich Slowly net worth spreadsheet!)

Once you have your net worth, multiply it by 4% (or by 0.04). Based on recent history, this is how much you could safely spend each year without draining your savings. (If you want to be conservative, multiply by 3%. If you’re feeling bold, multiply by 5%.)

How do these numbers make you feel? Is your wealth snowball bigger than you thought? Or is there work to be done before you’ll feel secure? How long until you reach your Crossover Point? Or are you already there?

Photo credit: Snowball by Kamyar Adi. Not sure who took the young Buffett photo.

Note: I’m migrating old Money Boss material to Get Rich Slowly — including the articles that describe the “Money Boss method”. This is the tenth of those articles.

Part one answered the question, “What is financial independence?”

Part two looked at why you should run your life like a business.

Part three explained how to write a personal mission statement.

Part four explored the importance of saving rate.

Part five showed why the best way to spend less is to cut back on the big stuff.

Part six was all about how to earn more money.

Part seven peeked at opportunity costs and conscious spending.

Part eight delved into my investment strategy and philosophy.

Part nine is my favorite. It tells readers how to automatically do the the right thing with money through the power of automation.

Look for the final installment in the “Money Boss method” series later this week.

The post The crossover point: How to know when you’ve achieved financial independence appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/crossover-point/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[americanfrolic]

Every summer from age 10 to 21 I spent a couple weeks on Lake Okoboji going to the most wonderful camp. I looked forward to the friends I would meet, the freedom to do what I wanted, and to try something new I couldn't find at home.  So when we got an invite to Camp Wandawega in Elkhorn Wisconsin I couldn't say yes fast enough.  I had been there for a wedding a year before and knew what an amazing property it was.  Jerimiah hadn't been before but he is usually game for most anything and knew the area well since that is where he does some of his ice riding.

We had left Chicago in a mad dash and made it to the North Suburbs to finish a few things on the Frolic and see some friends and family one last time before we set off on our journey.  Making us that much closer to the camp which made for an easy drive.  We hadn't had the Frolic on the road since the day we bought it and never towed it with our new van so taking the two-lane highways from Palatine, Illinois to Elkhorn, Wisconsin felt like the right idea.  We took Hwy 12  all the way to the camp and were the first to arrive Friday afternoon.  I love being the first to camp.  You get the lay of the land and to check out all the fun things they have for you to do before everyone gets there.  The property manager Joe greeted us and got us a sweet spot to park between the archery and axe throwing targets, all which got moved about 20 paces over when we parked.   As everyone started to arrive we got the camper unpacked and did some, what realized quickly would be daily maintenance on the Frolic.

We knew we had been invited to an event sponsored by Urual Motorcycles.  Urual had made the camp their very own sidecar and this would be the first time anyone would see it, even the camp owners Theresa and David. We had very little idea of what would happen beyond that.

Friday night was chill, we just sat around tasting beer from Chicago's Metropolitan Brewery and meeting the invited guest who were a selection of photographers, writers and small business owners from all over.   Drinks were had and everyone gathered in the kitchen like most parties and swapped stories of adventures they have had.  The Frolic was adorned with some new outdoor lights later that night and we got out the record player and a bottle of Whiskey and hosted some of our new friends in our new 14 ft home.  Gradually everyone found a bed, some in teepees some in old hotel and we tucked ourselves in for our first peaceful night's sleep in the Frolic.

The next morning we were called to breakfast and got our daily itinerary. Urual Motorcycle had brought in an instructor to the camp and he would teach us in small groups all about riding a sidecar. Until it was your time to ride you could explore the camp and enjoy all it had to offer. We took a canoe out on the lake till it was our time.  Let me preface this next part by saying this was my first time on a motorcycle and first time driving anything that needed to shift.  So that being said they allowed me and even encouraged me to get on one. They said it's easier for people who had never ridden a motorcycle before, and that it was. After I putted around and got the basics Jerimiah took the reigns and we tore through the woods with a couple of other people. We ended the second night with a great local fish fry and more amazing Metropolitan beer.

Sunday morning brought a delicious breakfast by our friends at Longman and Eagle in Chicago and after some more riding the end of camp for most.  We stuck around till Monday afternoon and gave the Frolic a little more love. Joe the property manager came to the rescue one more time making sure we were ready to hit the road. He also wanted to make sure we blessed the van saying that in his firefighting days it was tradition to spray all the new vehicles with the firetruck and seeing that the camp had their very own vintage firetruck that was for sure happening before we left.

As we pulled out and headed west we knew this first weekend would be hard to top.

[kingoftabor-blog]

barefoot okoboji

Barefoot SKINNERS Many people, even joggers, usually do not know that there exists a little but significant subculture of significant athletes who operate without footwear. When you could anticipate to get these joggers around the seashore or in regions using a delicate composite monitor, you'd be wrongly diagnosed. These athletes are training on asphalt and cement and even contending in highway races. You can find marathon runners and triathletes who get that they have more steadiness and fewer traumas when working without footwear. So what's the controversy? Why doesn't every person go barefoot whenever they work? This is the dilemma I encounter: How in very good conscience will i, a podiatrist concentrating on runners and sports medication, notify individuals who running on hard surfaces, without the security of the shoe or assist from an orthotic, is okay to complete. This violates almost all of my instruction and positively goes against good sense. A sneaker, after all, absorbs surprise and may cushion the blow of an unforgiving surface. Probably the most famous barefoot joggers are the Kenyans who definitely are always front side-of-the-packers at the most worldwide marathons. Encouraged by these Kenyan sportsmen, Josh Stevenson created worldwide media in February 2009 by race and accomplishing the grueling New Zealand Coast to Shoreline Multisport event while without shoes. It was his eighth time contending from the race and that he gone in with the attitude "Generally If I can perform it in bare feet, ideally I could motivate other individuals to make it happen in boots." Also, he said that he would not remain competitive barefoot once more. This sort of is just not the mindset of accurate without footwear runners. Barefoot joggers will manage in every weather conditions. Most will use water resistant stockings in freezing weather. Other individuals will manage barefoot in spite of the climate or area. A lot of boast wonderful advantages of barefoot jogging, like accidents reducing, a obvious boost in arch height. There are actually shoes, for example the Nike Free and Vibram 5 Hands that are often used to both simplicity people in to running barefoot or delivering security if the surroundings is definitely also dangerous to run in when without shoes. Give without shoes having a try out if this intrigues you? Nicely nearly anything without excess can't injured. My professional recommendation is usually to try it out on a managed surface, say for example a rubber keep track of, and see how you will do. Barefoot joggers will claim that this type of surface is not great and a sleek cement work surface is most beneficial. I respectfully disagree with that. Operating without shoes will give you a really considerable change in aspects, so you must ease involved with it. Operating your normal work out in boots some day and without footwear the subsequent will uncover you to damage. You will find those, nonetheless, who ought not even consider barefoot operating. Individuals, with all forms of diabetes, peripheral neuropathy, or some other health concerns that lead to a feeling numb in the ft or possibly a reduced immunity process, should not run without footwear below any scenarios. One of several explained great things about without shoes running is the athlete having enhanced experience below their toes causing these people to work "lighter in weight." Should there be a health care problem that causes a decline in experience, these advantages are negated. Additionally, the failure of the athlete not to acutely sense their surface area will available them approximately injury, along with the extra danger of moving over a sharp thing rather than experiencing it. This might lead to infection and puts the limb at risk. Joggers who definitely have quite substantial mechanized troubles or deformity, such as previous foot surgical procedures on bone fragments, clubfoot, trouble for muscles, or even incredibly smooth or higher-arched ft must exercising extreme caution if trying barefoot jogging. The exclusive structural conditions that exist in these circumstances put the barefoot athlete in danger of additional trauma. Critical without footwear runners might disagree, but the mechanized discrepancy such feet will be exacerbated in without footwear working.

[writingcommons-blog1]

“The Great Emmetsburg Triumph” by Brady H.

It can be puzzling to think about multifaceted topics like what kind of major and unique events bring a community together. Regardless of the city’s population, specific events and tragedies can bring thousands into one vast, caring family. Many such events have brought my community together ranging from the death of a respected, well-known and adored pastor, to an envied, stupendous and well-deserved state tournament basketball appearance by our girl’s team my junior year for the first in school history.

Some onlookers might bash basketball as an over-glorified sport, similar to other sports, and think that more attention should be spent on fine arts.

To them I say: that is probably true, but it’s society who puts too much emphasis on sports -- no one person is to blame, it’s the whole entity.

Arguments such as “sports or arts?” can tear a community apart, but I say that we should not focus on what the specific activity is, but rather on what each individual person finds satisfying and entertaining. Here in the United States, people are allowed to pursue what they believe in. I try not to hold sports over the fine arts, but sometimes I do (not because I think sports outweigh fine arts, but because simply I was raised this way). My experiences in sports, just as some others’ experiences in fine arts, have proven that one monumental competition or event can bring a community together in a special, electrifying way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Our practices have been in preparation for this exact game. All season, our team would think about how each component, drill and repetition would put us at an advantage to our opponent. I can remember talking with my teammates about how each day we were getting close to “the game.” Every practice, I would lace up my mud-covered, worn-out cleats and steadily head to the practice field, sometimes as if it was a chore. In this particular practice week, I walked into the musty smelling locker room with an improved and positive attitude. This game meant more than just a winning or losing notation on our record; this game meant that our community could produce a football team that could compete with the “almighty” Emmetsburg E-hawks. Year after year, losing this game became a tradition, even before the Okoboji area consolidated with Milford. The small town of Milford was unable to match up with Emmetsburg’s legacy. The feeling of losing became all that was known when matched with the E-hawks. It was all I knew as a player and student of the Okoboji Community School District. It was a sombering thought that went unnoticed by most, except our devoted, enthusiastic coach, Jon Allen. His faded yellow sweats and stained visor outfit gave him a persona that claimed he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about performance and functionality.

In the past, our school always had problems with our football team; in fact, my seventh grade year we didn’t even have a football team. However, when I was a sophomore, our team broke the longest losing streak in state history when we won a hard fought game against North Union. I made an incredible tackle that allowed me to hold a higher position on the team after that game, which was the start of my varsity career.

The previous season, we were not scheduled to compete with Emmetsburg as we were in a different division. As time moved along and I became a senior, my classmates and I were reassigned to the same division as our most daunting opponent. At the beginning of the season, I felt like a part of me moved on with the graduating class. How could I focus on football? More importantly, how could I focus on “the game”? It started by me making an effort to mend old connections to teammates in my class: I had to grow close to them to help create a sense of unity. This sense of unity can be seen on many different levels, ranging from our direct friendships to the community’s togetherness.

Though the matchup was scheduled mid-season, every game leading up to it was like a stepping stone: we critiqued our work like it was a legitimate job, analyzing deeply our strengths and weaknesses. As the season progressed and we identified our team’s best quality, passing the ball, we then decided to sharpen this skillset like forged steel to outweigh their well-known ability to run the ball.

The week of practice leading up to this game was unlike any other week I had previously went through during the three and one-half years I’d participated in the sport. Though our drills weren’t new or abstract, our level of focus and determination increased tremendously. I felt like I was performing better in practice, which can be difficult to notice on a minute scale. The overall morale of the team seemed serious, yet excited, as if we had a business meeting coming up that decided our company’s fate. That week of classes even seemed to go smoother than usual.

As the week of practice wrapped up we only had two more items on the agenda to take care of before the game: the night before’s speech and team-meal. The speech can be summed as the following reads: everyone had to perform at their best in one specific area, setting a personal record for himself. This could be totalling up tackles higher than ever before, rushing more than ever, or catching more passes than he previously had caught. This “be extra” message seemed to hit home with our team.

Though coach’s speech was not earth-shattering or revolutionary, the words preached in that specific demeanor had meaning -- they sunk in deeply like the teeth of a venomous snake in its prey.

The day finally arrived, everyone was anxious but felt that the preparation handled during the week would be more than sufficient in our game’s outcome that night. The drive there, though 45 minutes, felt like it took 10 minutes. We slapped our pads on and warmed up on the field with not the hope, but expectation we would prevail. Running through the drills, I could feel the blood surge through my veins mixed with a calculated amount of adrenaline. Our senior class, “the ones who would surmount to nothing,” would be the ones to finally end the reign that Emmetsburg held over our community.

And then it happened. The ball was snapped and the game began. Our team assembled as not eleven individual players, but rather as one player on the field, making extraordinary plays and performing the fundamental aspects of the game with intensity and rigor. Down after down and play after play, our team could see that our preparation was starting to pay off. Our best receiver was unstoppable, our linebackers were tackling for a loss every other play, our offensive line was able to hold off the notoriously thick Emmetsburg players.

My community’s team had done what others couldn’t do for as long as our district has had a football team -- we beat the odds. In that game, I had the most tackles I’ve ever had in one game. Along with everyone else, I met the status quo. In the end, our community erupted with excitement and pride, in addition to myself and team. After the excitement of the game began to fade, I asked myself: why was this phenomenon such a big deal to our community? Shouldn’t we be focusing on more holistic topics like helping those in our community that don’t have enough to eat? Or putting more emphasis on togetherness and quality of life? I still to this day cannot fully explain why a game was able to bring our community together and not a community wide food drive.

The blame could be associated with our society's’ economic system of capitalism, in that demand and entertainment drive our country. To be honest, I don’t think I will ever be able to precisely explain why the success of a football game had the weight that it did. My inability to explain the weight of the football game is irrelevant; however, the game, although short-lived, brought our community together.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Underwater America: The Outer Banks and the Graveyard of the Atlantic

SCUBA diving is an oftentimes exciting experience. With each dive spot we visit, my crew and I gain a greater understanding of the underwater world—although let’s face it, some of us are in it for the thrill. In the past week we seemed to have plenty of them, exploring wrecks and coral reefs and interacting with the aquatic life that inhabit within. It had gotten to the point, of course, where we couldn’t seem to go a day without diving. Unfortunately, though, that seemed to be the case, as our next destination would be several states and many hours away. We were able to get some sort of a head start by leaving Key West late in the evening, sleeping at a motel in Melbourne, and leaving just before the break of dawn and before I-95’s familiar heavy traffic. “I’m bored,” Squiddly, riding shotgun that day, said to me, his tentacles barely moving. “Sorry, Squiddly. I know it’s a pain having to endure seeing nothing but cars for hours on end.” “Who said anything about boredom, to begin with?” was how Mildew Wolf parsed it—and, close at hand, Breezly Bruin could be starting to doze off, feeling slightly drowsy. “On the other hand,” Loopy de Loop remarked, “it always pays to imagine the very possibilities of our next diving journey—and after such a wonderful time in the Keys, who couldn’t swear it was almost like Paradise to a diver?” “I agree, Loopy baby, even if it seems like another day away!” Hokey chuckled, resisting the urge to try to put his feet up on the driver’s seat. “I guess we could use a little pick-me-up,” I said, sensing the need for nourishment as we drove past the Florida–Georgia line. “We won’t dive there today, but if you’d like, we could go to Hilton Head Island or Myrtle Beach and relax there. No exploring or anything.” “Which,” Magilla chimed in, “suits me just fine. Besides, I could use a little stretching of the old muscles every now and then!” To which Hardy Har-Har chimed in, “You can say that again—” “The name’s Magilla Gorilla.” “And I am Hardy Har-Har. Don’t let my myopic looks or personality fool you.” “Meanwhile, what’s there to be fooled in Magilla himself?” “This I have to see to believe!” was how Mildew Wolf snarkily parsed it. “Meanwhile,” Loopy de Loop chimed in with inherent Québécois charm, “I can’t help but recall just how wonderfully blue Okoboji was when we were diving there just weeks back…and how equally blue the waters off the Keys seem to be.” “Hence,” Mildew rejoindered, “I take back any and all remark about laundry bluing explaining the blueness of Lake Okoboji. It was more or less intended in jest.” “I’d have to concur with Loopy,” was how Magilla added to the conversation, “when it came to just how remarkably clear those Keys waters can get to be…on a par with Okoboji!” “We need to cool off!” Wally said, wiping sweat off his brows as the sun’s rays continued to hit. “All right, we’ll do it. We’ll stop for breakfast in a little while. I’m sure we’re all hungry, anyway.” After getting a diver’s breakfast at a restaurant in Brunswick, we continued up I-95, eventually crossing into South Carolina. The lighthouse with the red-and-white stripes—otherwise known as the Harbour Town Lighthouse—was the sign that we had arrived in Hilton Head Island, one of the South’s growing tourist resorts. We donned our masks, harnesses, tanks and fins and, following the customary dive-and-safety briefing, we waddled into the beach, much to the bemusement of maybe one or two people looking on, wondering about those weird animals and their hobbies. This moment of fun and sun would be the prelude—and antithesis—to a dive both dark and historical: the Graveyard of the Atlantic in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, a stretch of land and ocean that holds many stories and secrets.

Just about each of us had their own ideas for fun. “Just about,” I say, as I was content to just hold the film camera, slowly kick my legs as the fins bent upward and downward in a somewhat hypnotic motion, and watch. My friends discuss the joy that was had for about an hour that perfect day. As Magilla observed the town itself: “For a somewhat emerging resort as may not quite be Disney World, the underwater scene off Hilton Head may seem a little basic…but at least you had an opportunity to stretch out the muscles for the dive ahead.” And Mildew: “So it’s probably just ocean sand…yet you got an opportunity to basically recline on the bottom and kick back for just a few minutes.” Wally’s reply: “You know I had to join you. It never gets old, Mildew. Reminds me of the zoo! The better memories…” Breezly’s commentary: “Rather interesting dive discovery…and what an interesting way to relax, reclining on the sand alongside Mildew Wolf!” And here’s Squiddly: “Not interesting enough to go into the history books anytime soon, but whatever floats your boat, I suppose! Now this, meanwhile, is living…” he said, over footage of him spinning his tentacles as though they were the blades of a helicopter. Meanwhile, some others were playing tag, with Lippy commenting over grabbing Hardy’s fin: “Don’t sweat it, Hardy. Someday you’ll get the hang of underwater tag.” Here’s Loopy to close out the commentary: “‘Loopy,’ I said to myself, ‘is there nothing sacred when it comes to what you can do while diving?’ And I answer to myself, ‘what is there to be considered sacred?’” Without a boat, we simply came out the way we came in, like ten underwater monsters after human flesh. The hour well spent and our appetites well sated, we continued on our journey across I-95, reaching the town of Beaufort, North Carolina, in Cape Fear, by night, where we would get ourselves a nice dinner and lodging. Having consulted a guide book that evening for some possible wreck sites, I discussed a possible course of action for tomorrow with Magilla and Squiddly over some vending-machine coffee. Squiddly patiently waited for his cup to fill while I laid back against the wall with my cup in hand. “So we have two options,” I said to Magilla. “We could do a dive with more bottom time first, or the real deep one. The shallow dive will be the Hesperides while we tackle the City of Atlanta the day after. We can afford to do two days’ worth of dives here.” Magilla, nursing a cup of vending-machine coffee himself as was gradually becoming tepid by the long intervals between sips, couldn’t help but be fascinated at the idea offered. Especially considering where they would likely be able to do two days’ dives in the right conditions. “So, have any preference?” I asked the two of them, with Squiddly carefully handling his cup of coffee, rightly requiring two of his tentacles to do so. “We could do City of Atlanta first,” Squiddly said, wincing as he realized it was going to be difficult to set a cup of coffee down on the table with one tentacle holding the bottom, one wrapped around the cup, and both getting quickly warm. “That way I could go back there solo and get in a lot more deep wrecks. It’s no problem. You can go without me!” “Pretty amusing thing that Squiddly Diddly has for deep wrecks,” Magilla remarked. “And you wonder how that’s possible, particularly remembering his background as shallow-pool fodder back at Bubbleland.” “It’s not that I have a thing for them,” Squiddly replied with his brow arched as I helped him set down the cup. “It’s just that these wrecks may be deeper, and you oughta know you can’t do multiple deep dives like that with all that nitrogen buildup. That doesn’t affect me.” “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” I asked. “Now that the cup’s on the table, yeah, I’m sure,” Squiddly smiled. “That, plus the diving.” “Might it be possible,” Magilla asked, “that we might have to schedule the dive for just after daybreak, or maybe wait a couple hours after?” “We can conduct the dive late in the morning,” I said. “Given the depth, we wouldn’t want to be down that long.” But at any rate, even with Magilla’s coffee having become cold, he couldn’t help but sense a feeling of intrigue as to what could easily ensue at the sight of such an interesting wreck as the City of Atlanta. Especially the circumstances under which it was brought down. “As a matter of fact, Peter,” Magilla was prompted to ask, “what’s especially interesting about the City of Atlanta wreck?” “It’s got quite a history. It was one of the ships brought down by German U-boats during World War II. Plus, it’s within diving range for us. I’ll bring it up with the others,” I said, finding the coffee cool enough to finish with ease. “I’m sure there’ll be no objections.” And indeed, there weren’t. With the discussion over and my colleagues agreeing to the arrangement, we checked out just before seven in the morning in order to get breakfast, then continue north to the town of Buxton on Hatteras Island, where we would charter a boat to take us to our site. The conditions were right: few clouds, and the temperatures were considerably warm. Even so, we were prepared to take precautions given the depth of our dive. "Heavens to Jacques Cousteau!” Coming from the wheelhouse of the diveboat Diver’s Home Companion, such was certain to bring a sense of weird familiarity as our crew headed out to the City of Atlanta wreck site. “’Tis I, Snagglepuss, something of a legend among dive boat captains here in the Outer Banks.” “Jeez,” Mildew Wolf observed, “isn’t that voice a little familiar, albeit vaguely?” To which Wally Gator added, “Where have we last seen him?” Our team happily greeted Snagglepuss, a close friend of ours, upon hearing the familiar voice, although a few of us were curious as to what he was doing there. “That’s quite a coincidence,” Lippy said, scratching his head. “You’re on vacation, too?” Although I wouldn’t call it a vacation in the traditional sense, we were having good fun anyway. “Aaaaahhhh…to be among sea breezes, the gentle sway of the waves, the allure of the legendary wrecks as dot the Outer Banks—The Graveyard of the Atlantic, even!…Now what did you have in mind, Bluebeard’s legendary vessel, Queen Anne’s Revenge?” “Nope,” I said with a light chuckle. “We’re going to be exploring a World War II wreck, the City of Atlanta.” “I have heard something about the City of Atlanta in certain divers’ circles out this way,” Snagglepuss remarked. “It was U-boat action, wasn’t it?” “That’s right. We’re all going down there. You know, we could use one more.” “Provided we find a wetsuit that fits ya first!” exclaimed Hokey with his sly grin. “I do acknowledge,” Snagglepuss explained, “having done some diving here and there: Catalina Island, Hanamua Bay, the Florida Keys, even…and you can’t help but discover the challenges each dive brings about!” “You coulda joined us, Snag, old friend! We woulda spoken about old times inbetween dives!” Hokey said as he looked through the wetsuits to find out which was his. And in Loopy’s own case, it wasn’t quite hard to find his wetsuit—the one with a fleur-de-lis over his right breast, in the Québécois fashion. Fitting the wetsuit over such a furry body, however, could be regarded as easier said than done—particularly if you wanted to avoid getting the wetsuit’s zipper being caught in the fur. I, however, didn’t care much for fashion: just a simple black suit, with no markings to tell it apart: I was the only one who wore a wetsuit that large. “You didn’t dive alone, did you, Snag?” “I do acknowledge,” Snagglepuss remarked, “diving by myself…and finding a few companions here and there.” I groaned at the thought of such a dangerous thing. “Yeah, you shouldn’t do that,” I said, sighing as I zipped up. “If something happened to you, nobody’d be there to help you.” “I don’t think the fish swimming by you are that smart, anyway!” Squiddly added. Breezly chimed in, “I believe there’s an old saying to the effect of ‘dive alone, die alone’; am I correct?” I nodded. “I’m not much into sayings, but that’s absolutely correct. Although, Snag, you’ll have plenty of companions here, provided you join us!” “Hopefully, you do have a spare wetsuit as fits me!” was how Snagglepuss met the challenge. Hardy and Mildew offered to check the stock to find just the right one, and while it took a few minutes’ searching, one pretty close in size to Snag’s frame and dimensions did turn up. And once invited to fit the wetsuit, Snag admitted that it felt a little loose, but “at least it should suffice. Especially for such an interesting venue as you have in mind…and I guess we are approaching the same, judging by the coordinates you gave, Peter!” “We’ll be doing two dives in Buxton,” I said, showing Snag the map. “Tomorrow we’ll explore the Hesperides—it’s a dive with lots of bottom time and warmer waters.” “Oh, I’ve heard also of the Hesperides wreck! Didn’t that involve a load of pig iron complicated by a shifting sea bottom?” “Sure did. You’ll get to enjoy warm water against your fur tomorrow, but for now, we need to plot this dive out.” Snagglepuss piloted the dive boat miles out into the Atlantic Ocean. Once the boat came to a full stop, we hoisted the “diver down” signal and donned the rest of our gear. It seemed much heavier, since in addition to the usual gear we also had a wetsuit and a hood on. Although it was a very warm day, we weren’t about to take chances in what was ninety-foot water. Naturally, with the extra diver and extra equipment, it was a bit more crowded. Our dive time was going to be only thirty minutes at ninety feet with a five-minute stop at fifteen feet, so we had better make the most of all our time. Naturally, Squiddly would be there a bit longer to take care of any other nearby wrecks in the area and get off a few good shots. There was the usual safety briefing, and Snag was all ears this time. As we had an odd number of divers, I had Snag teamed up with Hokey and Wally. “All right, everyone,” said I, wearing the mask over the eyes, “Good diving.” With regulator in mouth between my teeth, we all entered backward in unison, Squiddly leading the way with a rope to aid in finding our way back. Believe you me, the wetsuit couldn’t have been rather comfortable. Such seemed to be the consensus among us in the dive, considering such rather chilly waters as these. Snagglepuss couldn’t agree more, considering the situation to hand; even then, the feeling of neoprene rubber against fur was a little unusual, it probably having been awhile since he dived thus. All of us stayed close as the sun penetrated the water less and less and things grew darker. We were about to go face-to-face with World War II history, one of the many casualties of America’s “Torpedo Junction.” Traveling from New York to Savannah, the City of Atlanta was noticed by a German U-boat on January 18, 1942, despite an attempt to remain discreet. Past midnight into January 19, one torpedo shot was fired—and was enough. The blast was so powerful that people from what is now the town of Avon, seven miles away, awoke. Of the 46 people on board, only three survived. We arrived at the stern of the ship, where we would all meet when we were done. We then started exploring the boat and discovered that most of whatever was left was flattened. Nevertheless, there was still plenty to explore. And given such a depth, and the general murkiness of the waters surrounding the wreck, flashlights and wetsuits seemed like welcome company considering just how intense the U-123’s shelling damaged the City of Atlanta enough to quickly bring her to ruin. Time, admittedly, did her number on the wreck, but the wheel as was one with its steering system could still be discerned though barnacles grew around its edges. Snagglepuss and companions in particular couldn’t help but notice how intact the engine and boilers remained; even shining a light on same revealed just how the barnacles had built up. Squiddly was able to get behind the boilers and film several divers—namely, Mildew and Loopy—swimming up and over it in the hope that the port side of the ship had anything interesting on view. The Diving Wolves, as they were, discerned a piece of the ship’s boiler which managed to survive the onslaught, chilled all these years in 90-feet waters…and even in the curiosity, Mildew’s flashlight gave out for some reason, prompting Loopy, through hand signs, to offer sharing with Mildew. Accepted. While Squiddly stayed with the wolves, I saw Hokey and Wally examining the port side, swimming along the sides of a boat to get a better idea of how it may have looked in a better time. While there wasn’t enough to go on, there was still plenty visible—never mind just how destructive the torpedoes from U-123 made quick work of the City of Atlanta, and the later flagging of the area as a hazard to marine navigation. It must seem rather amazing, Breezly Bruin thought to himself in the height of the dive, how the engine and boilers could have survived such destruction to begin with. Yet as a wreck, he had to be conscious of what it was and that care had to be taken around same, never mind the growths of barnacles all this time. Another interesting discovery: though barely visible through the sand of the bottom, Snagglepuss couldn’t help but notice a piece of the brass screw propeller as propelled the City of Atlanta all the while. Thankfully, Snag decided against shovelling out the propeller’s remains, recognising the wreck’s importance. Fortunately, I was able to get this discovery just as our time was just about up. We made our slow ascent at the rate of one foot every two seconds—it took a good two-and-a-half minutes to reach the decompression stage, which required an additional five minutes of waiting. Squiddly wanted to go up as well, if only to change the film in the camera for a new reel. Admittedly, we wouldn’t blame Squiddly for having to change the film, but decompression was decompression. And we could no doubt imagine what would emerge from the raw footage in the end. Once the decompression stop was complete, we climbed out of the water, eager to get out of the gear. Wally was one of those not ready to bake in the wetsuit. “Fuddle-dee-doo,” muttered Wally. “I understand the need for it, but it wasn’t that comfy!” Nor would Hardy Har Har have persisted in the wetsuit (“Ohh dear. How much longer would it have been likely before being dehydrated, as it were, in my wetsuit?”), but at any rate, he, among the others of the crew, were glad to pull off the suits of neoprene rubber, wondering what the stench would be like. Freed of the suits, we were all too eager to slap some of the sea water scooped up from the ocean waters onto our bodies. Squiddly, meanwhile, was the only one of us who appeared happy. He didn’t wear a wetsuit and was all too eager to go back for more, as soon as he loaded up another reel of film. “See ya in 30 minutes!” the octopus squealed excitedly, diving back in and swimming with a freedom the rest of us couldn’t cherish. As a bulwark against hypothermia, though, we were fine with dressing up just that one time. And thus was initiative more than anything to begin the debriefing over the City of Atlanta wreck, which Mildew Wolf opened by pointing out just how “stunning” it seemed to come face to face with as unlikely an item of history as that. “If we weren’t on such a schedule, we’d visit a lot more wrecks,” Hokey opined. They wished they could, but given the nitrogen buildup, it was best to wait a long time before they went under again. Breezly Bruin, for his part, admitted to a “certain sense of giddiness” at diving to such depths as the City of Atlanta wreck, contrasting such with his own diving experiences alongside Sneezly Seal in the waters of the Bering Sea off Nome: Somewhat bluish-green to the point of turning murky after awhile, chilly almost constantly, and the visibility somewhat limited, if that. Wally, listening attentively to Breezly, chimed in: “Shame I’ve been cooped up in the zoo so long. For a long time, I never quite experienced dives this deep before. As I became an independent ’gator I gained a lot of appreciation of the ocean’s blue bosom.” One could only imagine what Wally could have called the spring vent we witnessed a week or so prior. Loopy’s thoughts: “I have to admit that, back up among the Laurentians in Quebec, I’ve dived in a few lakes just to start the day more than anything while camping. More of a bracer than anything, but even then, some can get to be rather bluish-green after awhile. Depends on when you’ve got the turnover of warmer waters near the bottom such as drive colder surface waters itself to the bottom.” Magilla’s opinion: “I admit, being a gorilla myself kept in a pet shop window for attention’s sake, that it took awhile to find some interest in diving; this was after the surfboard escapade; I assume you remember that one.” And Mildew Wolf: “Pretty amazing how a lake can turn around as Loopy explained it, and yet not stink over a wide area!” Squiddly knew about Magilla’s brief dalliance with surfing; the gorilla had told him about it before with the energy of a ten-year-old on mescaline. However, the octopus was down there, earning his extra pay for the trip by shooting a few other wrecks within proximity. “So, Snag, any thoughts?” I asked, waiting on Squiddly to return. “Heavens to Neptune!” was how he began, in characteristic bombastic style. “And I have to acknowledge there that I was never much into wreck diving to begin with, but for a vessel of such size, as was to be imagined by the lay of the wreck, even allowing for parts of the engine and boilers to be exposed, was I impressed! Stunned, even!” Plenty of rest later, Squiddly returned from the water with plenty of extra footage in tentacle. We then took the boat back to shore and packed the gear into the trailer. One delicious seafood dinner later, we returned to our motel rooms to prepare for our comparatively leisurely dive to the wreck of the Hesperides. It was safe to say that the rest was well-deserved after as much the heartiness of the dinner as the exuberance of the dive into such an interesting wreck, not to mention plenty of the crew imagining what sort of footage, if any, would come out of Squiddly’s dive, and if it was of decent quality. The next morning, following another good breakfast, we piloted the boat carefully out toward the Hesperides, careful to stop so that we didn’t grind against the steering quadrant of the boat. We were very thankful that the weather was good enough for a dive such as this. “Just make sure, Peter,” Snagglepuss—again captain of the dive vessel—remarked, “that you’re able to clearly make out and discern the wreck from the water’s surface. The Diamond Shoals can be unpredictable, and that very unpredictability helped to explain what did the Hesperides in.” I brought the boat to a complete stop. A check of the map showed we weren’t over any part of the wreck; nevertheless, we slowly and carefully dropped anchor and hoisted the flag. And at any rate, gear was checked over and put on, fitted even, in Snagglepuss’ immortal style of phraseology. And who could fail to be impressed at the sheer clarity of the water whence the wreck was situated? Just let it be said that with the Hesperides at a comparatively shallower depth than the City of Atlanta was, who needed wetsuits? Particularly considering how the Hesperides landed where she was and was easily approachable at such depths. Sixty minutes at forty feet, in fact—enough time for us to explore, and there was plenty to see, unlike last time. We all entered in unison and, with the surroundings much brighter, split up once we determined our meetup point. Snagglepuss had been right in that the Hesperides’ downfall was on the shoals. A British steamer, she ran aground on those very shoals on October 9, 1897 while transporting iron ore from the River Plate Ports of Argentina back to England. Unlike our last exploration, the crew was not in any immediate danger, and all 24 of the ship’s men survived—even if took awhile for the life saving crew to come to the Hesperides’ aid owing to heavy fog. But back to the dive: It was nothing but sheer wonder to approach such a wreck in such shallower waters, and especially amazing was how the holds which carried the iron ore had managed to take on a life of their own, with plenty of soft coral having emerged on the surface of the ore hold all this time in spite of the sheer proximity of the colder North Atlantic Stream relative to the warmer Gulf Stream. Of particular focus was the bulkhead, or what remained of it: You couldn’t help but notice where hard and soft corals had accumulated over the years, and managed to thrive all along. I was able to get plenty of terrific shots of coral growing over most of the ship. I was near the bow, taking in some gorgeous light green coral, while Hokey and Wally noticed plenty of sheepsheads congregating near the boilers. What impressed Loopy, Breezly and Mildew in particular was the practically-intact engine, still standing stout and upright, and the portside boilers; corals could also be evident on such ruins. Nearby was what remained of the starboard boiler, which got knocked off its side thanks to tidal action over the years. No more impressive a sight was what remained of the steering section; as with much else of the Hesperides’ remains, corals and other marine growths could be discerned, not to mention plenty of marine life being evident. Sunlight filtering through the emerald-green waters made the perspective even more impressive. Another impressive sight was the vast number of fish around the steering quadrant. Taken as a still photograph, the busy sight of the marine life looked like flotsam from a still-fresh wreck. Here we managed to get a stunning sight of hundreds of small fish congregating close together. But the most impressive of all sights was in the ore holds, which years of coral and concreting growths covered to create a modest reef in its own right, attracting its share of reef fish attracted by such an unlikely junction of ocean currents converging on such a legendary wreck. It may not have been as spectacular as the reefs off the Florida Keys, but it was interesting to sense in its own right. And to sense how a vessel such as the Hesperides, stranded as she was in shoals known to catch the unsuspecting mariner trying to navigate the Gulf Stream as it crosses the North Atlantic such like the Diamond such, actually managed to remain intact in some measure impressed practically everyone in the party, even becoming a sort of mini-aquarium in its own way—especially in what remained of the ore holds! Satisfied with our dive, we returned to the surface after an hour had passed and climbed back onto the boat. Fortunately for us, there were no wetsuits to take off, along with the usual worry of smelling unpleasant. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you’ll agree I had a terrific time,” Hokey grinned, drying off his feet. And what a debriefing ensued about the Hesperides dive back on deck, over plenty of strong coffee come to think of it! What tales could be imagined of the discoveries to have ensued! Until a certain Hardy Har Har brought up the question of what ensued with Squiddly Diddly, who decided to do some discoveries in his own right after the City of Atlanta dive. It was something of a character trait of Hardy’s to be pessimistic, sometimes to the point of anxiety ensuing. “We’re going to pilot the boat over there,” I said in a reassuring tone. Indeed, the octopus took his own boat—a much smaller one—out to where we had been the day before. We arrived to find Squiddly just out of the water, packing up the reels. “Oh, hiya, gang!” was his call. “Didja have fun?” “You’ll say we did!” we cried out as one. To which Hardy Har Har was thinking aloud just how it was possible for Squiddly to have survived underwater all that time, and to produce so much footage of wrecks beyond the City of Atlanta such, no doubt bound to require plenty of editing. Even then, Snagglepuss was bound to know of at least one film processor on shore who could do a decent job on what Squiddly hath wrought. To think that Hardy didn’t consider the fact that Squiddly was an octopus and was born for the water!“I think that’s good enough for this episode,” I said, confident that we had enough footage to make a riveting episode. “We should head back to shore and get some rest. All of us.” Even as we imagined what sort of footage ensued of Squiddly’s discoveries, and how it would all turn out in the end.Anyway, we hope you enjoyed our tale of two wrecks, as well as the company of our friend Snagglepuss. Remember, if you are interested in the exciting world of scuba diving, please seek out proper instruction from a professional, and never dive alone. In our next episode of this series, we travel east of the Chesapeake Bay to explore one of the Eastern U.S.’s top beach destinations: Ocean City, Maryland. Until then, happy diving.

[sohannabarberaesque]

“Underwater America with Peter Potamus” (episode 15: Lake Okoboji, Iowa)

(As we begin this episode, we find the van and support trailer of Our Intrepid Divers driving along US Highway 71 through west-central and southwestern Minnesota, making a momentary stop at the “Welcome to Iowa” sign on the Minnesota-Iowa line, unaware that something most unlikely for the region is approaching. As Your Genial Host explaineth--)

PETER POTAMUS, over the approach into the Okoboji/Spirit Lake region: Can you just imagine a rather campy-looking summer resort “by the lake” in as unlikely a setting as the prairies of northern Iowa--and barely ten miles inside Iowa from Minnesota?

(The scene shifts to the State Pier in Arnolds Park, where the stately old steamer Queen, still rather active back in 1970, awaits another voyage, with the somewhat newer Empress alongside preparing for a moonlight excursion.)

This very week, in fact, our dive team has heard the very siren call of Lake Okoboji--specifically, West Lake Okoboji, which is but one of the Iowa Great Lakes. And happens to be one of but three pure “blue water” lakes in the world; Lake Louise up in Canada and Switzerland’s Lake Geneva are the other two.

MILDEW WOLF (snarky aside): I just hope someone didn’t accidentally throw a bottle of bluing into Okoboji for the sake of effect....

(Soon after, the whole can be said to go into an orientation sort of mode, with our divers taking the excursion on the steamer Queen over West Lake Okoboji, followed by an afternoon at Arnolds Park the amusement park; we can see our crew on the likes of what was then known as the Big Coaster, with the obligatory view unto Okoboji before the train makes its first drop--with stunned surprise to be had throughout by all aboard. Oh yes, and those legendary Nutty Bars, a peanut-and-ice-cream bar as is something of an Okoboji “must-have”; you can sense ice cream and chocolate coating along the lips of especially Breezly Bruin, Squiddly Diddly and Hardy Har-Har....)

HARDY HAR-HAR, somewhat myopically: Oh, dear ... I just hope I didn’t swallow the stick by accident, especially with some diving ahead! (Anyhow, his leonine companion, Lippy the Lion, senses what’s up and fishes out the stick from Hardy’s mouth, throwing it away luckily before choking ensues. Then--)

PETER POTAMUS, over some snorkelling scenes in Smith’s Bay of Lake Okoboji: Think of the shallows of Smith’s Bay, a sort of “gateway” into the shallower East Lake Okoboji, as a preliminary for the Big Dive Ahead ... you couldn’t resist just how cerulean blue the waters of Okoboji are, even with the waters on average there having about a 15-foot depth.

WALLY GATOR, observing things over the action: Being a Florida boy myself, don’t you know, the contrast with Silver Springs seemed ... rather impressively colorful. But without a mermaid act.

MAGILLA GORILLA, again over the footage: So bluish-looking ... and yet so amazing to behold!

(A short time later, moving to a rented pontoon boat which featured the essentials for a SCUBA session into the deepest part of Okoboji, all of 136 feet beneath the surface or so as triangulated from Fort Dodge Point and Pillsbury Point, anchored down to about 120 feet; we can see the crew getting into their harnesses with air tanks and Peter “himself” reviewing safety procedures, of which we can view a glimpse therefor ... followed by the crew lined up and preparing for the backflip entry, to be captured underwater by no less than the ace underwater photog, Squiddly Diddly “himself,” in the blueness of Okoboji.

(Over the inevitably kitschy-sounding stock background music can be seen many of the members of the troupe making their descent into the irridescent depths of Okoboji, eventually reaching her deepest point ... which involves discovering the very “fountain of life,” the spring which explains Okoboji’s existance. Some interesting narration and observations ensue:)

MAGILLA GORILLA: I thought I read something somewhere about the Blue Grotto of Capri ... but believe you me, Okoboji’s blueness was nowhere near this clear ...

HOKEY WOLF: Just a few blissful moments in such unlikely waters as just barely inside Iowa ... and just be lucky you weren’t in some aquarium for the show aspect, the novelty of the whole! Breathes there anything so unusually relaxing?

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY, observed from the cameraman’s perspective: For a lake such as this, and in such an unlikely locale such as this, the clarity of water just nearly floored me on the lake’s sand bottom. Even as we were descending deeper and deeper, it just seemed rather amazing how clear such waters were!

LOOPY DE LOOP: And can you just imagine the bass, the Northern pike, even the panfish joining us in such bliss and wonderment at such depths!

(The highlight of this dive finding Peter leading the dive team into what you might call a “mystic circle” of sorts around the spring at Okoboji’s deepest point, gushing forth in its Luscious Glory such amazingly clear waters, as if to symbolise having made it that deep. The inevitably cheesy music accompanying all....)

WALLY GATOR: And you thought Silver Springs or even Weeki Wachee were amazing, this coming from a Florida gator himself ... imagine, a lake close to the Iowa-Minnesota line having such a remarkable shade of blue!

(We then make a segue over to an overnight anchorage of the pontoon, at some 60 feet of water, in the midst of northern Okoboji between Egralhavre and Hayward’s Bay; the lights of Okoboji can be seen reflected in the lake’s waters, not to mention the old Luna.)

PETER POTAMUS, explaining: I admit the idea of sleeping overnight on the pontoon at anchor in such a locale as this on Okoboji was a little unusual, even allowing for a few bags of potato and tortilla chips and a cooler of soda to make the night pass. But to actually spend the night sleeping in a pontoon on Lake Okoboji ... the feeling must have been rather sedate. At least in contrast to what Scooby-Doo may be facing in a reasonable facsimile of circumstances.

(Sunrise the next morning, and--)

For a rather unusual change of pace, we decided to do some dawn diving in Hayward’s Bay (and the footage ensuing, going the SCUBA route allowing for a 25′ average depth in those waters, got to be rather refreshing even allowing for a slight chill in the morning waters as turns out refreshing--even to where we can see Breezly Bruin sitting on the sandy lake bottom of Hayward’s Bay and imitating a rocking chair to the extent the air tanks permitted, the others following close behind ...

(In due course, the pontoon docks at a modest little lakeside cafe serving some decent Iowa-type breakfasts of hash browns, eggs, sausage, toast--and, of course, some rather decent coffee. Some diving-type conversation ensues with the waitress, one of the summer help obviously, who can’t help but believe she’s in the company of such unlikely divers as these, getting out her Instamatic camera to take some pictures of the company.)

And wasn’t THAT a memorable breakfast by Okoboji’s shores, as if such memorable diving in such a memorable venue wasn’t wonderful enough?

(To sum up--)

I was later to find out, ere we left Okoboji, that the presence of such lakes as the Okoboji/Spirit Lake group goes back to the last Ice Age; glaciation in this particular region, and the ensuing melt, was enough to produce such an unlikely setting for such a lake resort as this attracting Midwesterners for something close to a century or so. And what better place could Iowans and Nebraskans ask for in the mugginess of summer? (Even underwater, I have to say--as we proved.)

Hopefully, our next destination should prove just as amazing and interesting ...

@warnerarchive​ @joey-gatorman​

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss: Some random notes from Cousin Snaggletooth's retreat on Okoboji

It's not often that you find a more charming sort of spot to have a retreat than Iowa's Lake Okoboji. Especially when my cousin Snaggletooth was able to acquite a disused resort property on the East Lake for a song (as it were) and fix it up to serve as a wonderful retreat for us fellow Hanna-Barbera characters needing some change during the summer. And the water sports come dime-a-dozen ... especially the opportunity to jet ski practically to Okoboji's downtown docks. Not to mention the diving; in fact, Snaggletooth tells me of the time Captain Caveman spent nearly ten minutes underwater one evening, and showed no serious discomfort considering his age. Taffy, one of the Teen Angels assisting Cavey, added that Cavey actually manages to dive rather gracefully, and be able to sit cross-legged on the lake bottom before going into this almost whimsical ballet.

While coffee may be a beverage of choice for many of the crew, Snaggletooth acknowledges that he also has to keep coffee substitutes on had for a certain Mr. and Mrs. Finkerton, as in Inch-High, Private Eye. The mister's favourite: Pero, a German coffee-ersatz of roasted grains with the inevitable chicory for a coffee-like flavour. Kwicky Koala, I understand, likes nothing less than a wonderful Australian cuppa, as in Australian-grown Nerada tea, and introduced a certain Penelope Pitstop thus.

Staying with Kwicky K. for a moment: He introduced Snaggletooth to Arnott's Malt-O-Milk Biscuits, essentially sugar cookies with malt powder added. I had a couple the other night with some coffee in "the lodge," and they didn't taste all that bad. A little rich, though. 

Good thing they don't have TV at Snaggletooth's place, choosing shortwave radio instead ... although some of the stations from stateside can get to be crazier than the Mexican "border blasters" of my earlier days, particularly the religious programmes--or what passes for them. As well as some "numbers stations" used to relay coded instructions to foreign operatives--though not Secret Squirrel.

Interesting thing about the Cattanooga Cats and their midnight biscuits-and-gravy breakfasts: For one, they're not all that common, and tend to come on the whim of Kitty Jo and a few of her feline friends who assist. And for another, they like combining mild and hot breakfast sausages for the sausage gravy for variety's sake. Which can easily get rather crazy, and can sometimes last until two in the morning, hashing out concert, song or even album ideas--and for Scoots to share his latest stories, which I understand he draws from his upbringing with some rather crazy cousins of his otherwise unfeeling parents.

So you thought polar bears were the only ursines who could swim: Snaggletooth tells me that the Hair Bear Bunch were up 'Boji way recently, and did they have quite a time with the water wheel, recalling that closing title sequence on The Jetsons where a cat jumps on the treadmill as George walks Astro--I guess you're familiar with it. One particularly muggy morning, sensing that the air conditioning wasn't quite cutting it in their cabin, the ursine trio trotted out to the lake before dawn and dived into the lake ... which actually managed to come out rather refreshing enough to shower and have some breakfast like you wouldn't believe.

Yukka-Yukka from The King's crew kills time at a joke and gag shop in Okoboji when rhey're around. Where, I understand, Fleagle from The Banana Splits found a spinning bow tie to update his ur-wardrobe--on Yukka-Yukka's recommendation. 

Ruff and Reddy can't resist those Nutty Bars at Arnolds Park. Neither can Screwy Squirrel.

All in all, time to move on more than anything ...

[americanfrolic]

Every summer from age 10 to 21 I spent a couple weeks on Lake Okoboji going to the most wonderful camp. I looked forward to the friends I would meet, the freedom to do what I wanted, and to try something new I couldn't find at home.  So when we got an invite to Camp Wandawega in Elkhorn Wisconsin I couldn't say yes fast enough.  I had been there for a wedding a year before and knew what an amazing property it was.  Jerimiah hadn't been before but he is usually game for most anything and knew the area well since that is where he does some of his ice riding.

We had left Chicago in a mad dash and made it to the North Suburbs to finish a few things on the Frolic and see some friends and family one last time before we set off on our journey.  Making us that much closer to the camp which made for an easy drive.  We hadn't had the Frolic on the road since the day we bought it and never towed it with our new van so taking the two-lane highways from Palatine, Illinois to Elkhorn, Wisconsin felt like the right idea.  We took Hwy 12  all the way to the camp and were the first to arrive Friday afternoon.  I love being the first to camp.  You get the lay of the land and to check out all the fun things they have for you to do before everyone gets there.  The property manager Joe greeted us and got us a sweet spot to park between the archery and axe throwing targets, all which got moved about 20 paces over when we parked.   As everyone started to arrive we got the camper unpacked and did some, what realized quickly would be daily maintenance on the Frolic.

We knew we had been invited to an event sponsored by Urual Motorcycles.  Urual had made the camp their very own sidecar and this would be the first time anyone would see it, even the camp owners Theresa and David. We had very little idea of what would happen beyond that.

Friday night was chill, we just sat around tasting beer from Chicago's Metropolitan Brewery and meeting the invited guest who were a selection of photographers, writers and small business owners from all over.   Drinks were had and everyone gathered in the kitchen like most parties and swapped stories of adventures they have had.  The Frolic was adorned with some new outdoor lights later that night and we got out the record player and a bottle of Whiskey and hosted some of our new friends in our new 14 ft home.  Gradually everyone found a bed, some in teepees some in old hotel and we tucked ourselves in for our first peaceful night's sleep in the Frolic.

The next morning we were called to breakfast and got our daily itinerary. Urual Motorcycle had brought in an instructor to the camp and he would teach us in small groups all about riding a sidecar. Until it was your time to ride you could explore the camp and enjoy all it had to offer. We took a canoe out on the lake till it was our time.  Let me preface this next part by saying this was my first time on a motorcycle and first time driving anything that needed to shift.  So that being said they allowed me and even encouraged me to get on one. They said it's easier for people who had never ridden a motorcycle before, and that it was. After I putted around and got the basics Jerimiah took the reigns and we tore through the woods with a couple of other people. We ended the second night with a great local fish fry and more amazing Metropolitan beer.

Sunday morning brought a delicious breakfast by our friends at Longman and Eagle in Chicago and after some more riding the end of camp for most.  We stuck around till Monday afternoon and gave the Frolic a little more love. Joe the property manager came to the rescue one more time making sure we were ready to hit the road. He also wanted to make sure we blessed the van saying that in his firefighting days it was tradition to spray all the new vehicles with the firetruck and seeing that the camp had their very own vintage firetruck that was for sure happening before we left.

As we pulled out and headed west we knew this first weekend would be hard to top.