Where are all the Kennedys?, or Happy Fall, Y’all!

Although Monday’s trip to Egg Harbor was short, based upon the events of earlier that morning we expected the worst.  First, at 3 a.m we awoke to unexpected howling wind that drove us outside to add and tighten lines.  Second, we both struggled with the Wordle.  Every English-speaker in the known world will agree that “trice” is a stupid and unfair word.  While the wave conditions weren’t great by any stretch, however, the cruise wasn’t horrible either.

One logically might assume that Egg Harbor would be found nestled between East Egg and West Egg and would be what Jay Gatsby looked across as he lusted after Daisy, except those are in New York.  And even more except, they’re fictitious.*  Instead, Egg Harbor is another of these cool Door County villages.

Door County essentially is the Door Peninsula, with some 300 miles of coastline.  This has led the locals to call it “The Cape Cod of the Midwest.”  We have thoughts.  First, there’s a lot less lobster and a lot fewer of the aforementioned Kennedys around here.  Second, Door County is fabulous in its own right.  We get the sad desperation that led Grafton, Illinois, to proclaim itself “The Key West of the Midwest,” but this area seems neither sad nor desperate.  Even the questionably-named Cape Cod Motel is cute enough that someday it just might be absorbed into the Rosebud Motel empire.

Basically the Midwest just needs to be happy with what it is, although it’s not coincidental that no place in the world claims to be the false equivalent of, say, Gary, Indiana.

Back to Egg Harbor.  Nice marina.

The always helpful geographical totem pole, however, seems a bit off.  No way Santa’s House and Aspen, Colorado, for example, are in the same direction from here.

Just down from Tumbleweed, our dude reeled in a huge something or other.  There was a discussion on the dock about whether it was a brown trout or a king salmon.  We’re not experts—and the ironmonger’s daughter “who knew a surprising amount about fish as well” was nowhere to be found—but based on a five-second internet search we’re strongly leaning salmon.

Have we mentioned the flowers and pumpkins and stuff?  Door County is all in.

Now about that sign.  We’re in frickin’ Wisconsin.  It’s one thing to pretend to be Massachusetts, but this cultural misappropriation is taking it too far.  While we’re at it, that directional thing at the marina contains another yankee abomination.  Anyone entitled to say “y’all” would know that Dolly is from Sevierville—or Pittman Center, or Locust Ridge, depending on how far you zoom in—not Gatlinburg.  Dollywood is in Pigeon Forge.  Nobody is from Gatlinburg.

Anyway, Egg Harbor is small, and cutesy, and has delicious food, and has paths.  So basically it’s our kind of place.

The name Egg Harbor supposedly dates to 1825 and that time some fur traders were racing to shore and started throwing eggs at each other.  Really.  That’s what the sign says anyway.  What we know for sure is that the current villagers have embraced the name and all the same clever puns used by breakfast joints all around the country.  “Blue Sail,” for example, is a sculpture that the town purchased with funds raised at the “EGGstravaganza.”**

 Lots of other colorful pieces are scattered about town.

Speaking of colorful, the marina tree tried mightily to give us a small taste of what’s coming right after we pack up a rental minivan and head back to Arizona.

This morning we awoke to 40°.  Wait, what?  Forty degrees means it’s time to move south as fast as possible.  The last couple of days used 40-knot gusts and thirteen-foot waves to keep us pinned to the dock, but today looks decent.  So right now we’re pushing through to the balmy climes of Sturgeon Bay.  Which is only 16 miles from Egg Harbor, but still.


*This reminds us of that sad time we were cruising through the Rhode Island Sound and wanted to take a photo of Rosecliff—which was Robert Redford’s mansion in the vastly superior original movie—but unfortunately remembered about five minutes too late.

**We’re not at all fans of East Coast gangsta rap, but we do have to give a Biggie thumbs up to whoever created the “Notorious E.G.G.” shirts.

2 thoughts on “Where are all the Kennedys?, or Happy Fall, Y’all!”

    1. Yup. It’s always great to beat those jort-wearing, arm-flapping, worthless, cheating Florida dirtbags. Of course, we also hope everyone down there survives Ian unscathed, and that the Gators rebound from the humiliating defeat in time to beat up on Georgia in a few weeks.

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