“Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door”*

Tuesday’s acceptable weather window allowed us to tuck in behind the ferry, which we discovered was hauling other people away from Washington Island at the exact same time we wanted to leave.

Short day.  Nice day, although we did pass dangerously close to death’s door.  That’d be Death’s Door Bluff.

The Door Peninsula’s name actually comes from the Potawatomi term that translates as “door of death,” supposedly because bunches of tribe mates perished while attempting to make the same crossing we made.**  Apparently back in the day the Potawatomi lacked a term that translated as “acceptable weather window.”

Then on in to Sister Bay.  Now this place is cool, even though we’re still weeks away from any colored leaves.

Sister Bay’s most famous attraction is Al Johnson’s Swedish Restaurant and Butik.***

We know a thing or two about Sweden, because we like ABBA.  And we’ve been to IKEA.  And when they were little, Mallory and Shannon loved those tiny gummy fish.  So of course we ate at Al Johnson’s.  But Al Johnson’s isn’t known for Swedish Fish.  It’s known for the goats.  Which graze on the roof.  They even have two goat cams on their website.

Several years back some wingnut New York attorney filed a lawsuit, alleging that putting the goats on the roof was demeaning to the goats, although his claim of personal harm was a bit murky, what with him having no obvious connection to the goats or to Wisconsin.  Not surprisingly, he lost at every federal court level and now has to pay Al’s fees and costs.  Duh.

Also right near the marina is an odd little self-serve place—The Holy Transfiguration Chapel—full of Orthodox Christian iconography.

The path through the woods to get to it basically goes through some dude’s yard, and every website we found about it contained a bunch of jargon but nothing that really explains any history.  So it’s kind of hard to piece together what’s going on.  Maybe there’s some connection to Mother Russia, however, and they want to lay low for a while.  Which would be understandable.

After Sunday’s season opener, Packer fans also may want to lay low,  although we’re not sure they have the ability.

Our new membership in the Door County Pickleball Club got us on the courts in Sister Bay.  Pickleball as visitors is hit or miss—sort of like our abilities—but this time was a hit.

Anyway, Sister Bay is a fabulous stop.  Dana even worked in a good deed, by helping a boat pivot.  No really, the boat was Pivot.  Al and Judy and Wrigley the dog mentioned their plan to zip back through the Trent-Severn yet this season.  They hadn’t heard about the Kirkfield Lock being closed for the winter, however, and would’ve been stuck in Georgian Bay.  Eeeek.  But no worries for us.

No rain and few clouds mean awesome sunsets, which have replaced sunrises for us since we’re in a different time zone so the sun comes up too early again.  And our view is to the west.

We call this one “Dana on a park bench in silhouette.”

Enough of the artsy sunsets already.  So Friday we knocked off a quick eight miles of the trip down to Green Bay and stopped at Fish Creek.  Fish Creek should not be confused with Schitt’s Creek, which the Rose family supposedly owns and yet nobody pays them rent and Moira only was elected to the town council because Jocelyn dropped out, rather than, you know, because they own the town.  Makes no sense.

Not much along the way to Fish Creek, other than the Eagle Bluff Lighthouse.  We imagine it’d be pretty awesome if the leaves had changed.  Grrrr.

Fish Creek made a couple of lists ranking the coolest villages in America, and it’s indeed pretty cool.

But small.

And the marina misrepresented the Wi-Fi situation, which complicated Football Saturday.****

Despite the lack of fall colors, Door County already is embracing the season.  Lots of pumpkins.

Also lots of farms and orchards and such.  After all, this is “Orchard Country,” according to the winery barn.

We passed the barn and the pumpkins on our way to “a celebratory slap up binge at Mrs. Miggins’ Pie Shoppe.”  Actually we went to Sweetie Pies—not Mrs. Miggins’—but it’s a crime against humanity to skip an opportunity for a Blackadder line.

Dana even found a little premature color on her incredibly scenic walk, which she took alone because Verizon hotspots allowed Doug to thwart the marina’s efforts to block football.

Yup, we’re big Fish Creek fans.

The most exciting thing that happened over the past few days, however, was the addition of a grandson.

Ok, Pretzel actually is a rescue dog Shannon adopted, not an actual baby, but he also doesn’t cry all night or need his diaper changed, so we’re good with that.


*Bob Dylan, NOT Guns N’ Roses.

**Fortunately for Wisconsin gambling addicts, enough Potawatomi survived to open not one, but two casinos in the area.

***Combining (1) our powers of linguistic deduction, (2) what we learned from Swedish Chef on The Muppets, and (3) the availability of Scandinavian knickknackery to purchase, we determined that “butik” likely means “boutique” in English.

****Next year, Starlink hopefully will put an end to this recurring nightmare.

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