Hook and Bullet Club by Nick Wognum - Season over

The freezer is full of venison. It took two 16-day hunting seasons but we’ll be able to dine on deer meat this winter and hopefully right up to the 2018 season.
Heading into the last weekend of the muzzleloader season there were some doubters among my hunting partners. I had to send photos of two deer on the ground to prove them wrong.
Saturday morning was a chance to hunt on my buddy Jim’s land up the Fernberg. Twenty-five years ago we used to park trucks there and walk north, crossing ridges as we headed toward the invisible BWCA line.
Today not only are there hunting shacks but year-round homes as well. Jim’s land lies in this area and had been holding deer all fall.
The deal was I would sit in his enclosed tower stand and when I was done, take down the fabric covering the stand and haul it back to town.


From the miscellaneous drawer - Learning to live life in Ely through its history

It takes a while to adjust to life in Ely. Coming from an urban area years ago, I tried to mold the Ely area in the image I carried with me.
Many of the those things, ideas and mores, reflected the harshness of big cities and an entirely different way of life - with crime, occasional violence, traffic congestion, pollution and population density - driving my thought processes.
I was a card member of the Sierra Club as a result, and somewhat bitter about the world, past and present, as I viewed it. That membership, I came to understand, was part of the urban view generalizing all places unknown. It was generated by the industrial excesses in urban areas especially during WWII. City dwellers were known to trash their environment and there was a naive belief that rural dwellers must (or might) also be doing the same.
That wasn’t the case, I came to find out in the Ely area.


From the miscellaneous drawer - First 40 years

In the Ely Echo of November 30, 1977, it was announced that there was a new owner of the Ely Echo. That wasn’t part of my original plan which had been to share ownership with other Echo employees. That idea didn’t work out then.
In the intervening years, that HAS happened with son Nick Wognum now being the majority owner, followed by myself, Tom Coombe and Lisa Vidal-Sainio.


East of Ely - The Joe Meany Breakfast

The year I turned twenty-one, a friend and I paddled the entire route connecting the lakes and rivers of the Hunter’s Island escarpment. Our canoe was a heavy aluminum Grumman. Our food was a combination of freeze-dried dinners, pasta noodles, powdered eggs and any other lightweight stuff we could easily portage.
We planned to be out for over two weeks. Weight was an issue.
I’d lost a few pounds by the time we reached Lac La Croix, dead tired and in need of a quick place to camp. A thunderstorm was closing fast from the southwest.
The pines have grown much taller since that day at the Quetico Provincial Park Ranger Station, when a man standing at the dock waved us in.
The lean fellow in a dark green jacket with a cigarette dangling of the corner of his mouth was the ranger, Joe Meany, who ushered us out from the lightning into his cabin.


From the miscellaneous drawer - Homeless

Times are indeed changing. I’m grateful to live in a place that is warm, quiet, peaceful and in the woods.
I also appreciate being able to work at a job where I am in contact with many people and I am useful answering the phone and staying in touch with subscribers and readers.
It wasn’t always that way for me.
In my youth, though I had a family in the States, there came a time when I was homeless in Rome. The circumstance was due to some basic funds not arriving because of a mix-up in the postal system. It was an awakening as to how vulnerable I was.
Fortunately, a kind American military family, stationed at the embassy in Rome, Italy, took me in and offered me the tiny room sometimes occupied by a maid or other servant.
From that experience came the expectation that it might not be the last time I would be homeless. Events beyond one’s control are a reality for many.


East of Ely - Blizzards

by Dave Krikorian

On the other howling creature of the north woods - Blizzards.


Hook and Bullet Club by Nick Wognum - Deer? Not yet

Camp Cholesterol was up and running in full swing by Friday night before deer season. From a quiet spot in the woods to a deck full of coolers, ATVs parked outside and wood smoke curling out of the chimney - we were back in business.
Our travellers came from the Twin Cities area, Bemidji and the North Dakota border to make their way to our neck of the woods. Pick up trucks were tucked between the pines and every bunk had a sleeping bag spread out for when the lights were turned off.
With supper percolating in the oven, a deck of cards appeared, a game of smear started and never really seemed to stop. There were a few bathroom breaks but when 21 was reached, the score was circled and the game started over.
I stopped by the Wilmunen Shack when I left town on Friday and visited for a bit. There were just three hunters when I was there. Casey was still unloading her vehicle, Pat Farha was telling stories and shackmaster Rob was taking it all in.


From the miscellaneous drawer - Memories

People often say they remember where they were when they heard some dramatic event had occurred. Not true for me in regard to the JFK shooting in Texas. I might have been traveling and away from news sources.
There is only one event I can pinpoint in time and my memory. What’s especially odd about the memory is how vivid it remains and my age at the time. It was Sunday, December 7, 1941. I was six.
My family had gone by car to nearby Homewood, Illinois to the Auditorium there for Evelyn Klein’s Student Piano Recital.
Miss Klein was a German Jewish refugee and she came every week on the Illinois Central railroad to give piano lessons to we three children. My sister, age 11, had taken to the lessons far better than my brother or me.
The large auditorium was filled with parents and relatives. Washington Auditorium in Ely is quite similar in its interior.


Hook and Bullet Club by Nick Wognum - Prep for deer opener

Having some help at the shack on the last weekend before deer season was great. Having two friends from high school out in the woods was awesome.
Joined by Megan’s dog Millie, Steve Jacobson, Jim Ronn and I tackled some of the last-minute projects out at Camp Cholesterol.
Our main project was to finish putting up a tower stand including putting the canvas top over the metal frame.
This is definitely not a one man job and it took all three of us to make it happen. Some would say it takes three of us to do the work of one man, but that’s besides the point.
We did manage to get the stand completed without falling off, a major accomplishment to be sure. There was a few minutes along the way I was worried Jim’s back was going to go out or Steve was going to point out there was an easier way, but all’s well that ends well.


My haunted house

The lightning is flashing and the rain is coming down in sheets. My husband is out. It’s just me, my cat, my canary and my imagination, which is no small thing.
Full disclosure: I love reading mysteries and watching mysteries, but I’m not reading or watching one now. I’m in my office working, when suddenly I hear a sound. Whoosh. And then it’s silent. What was that? It wasn’t the canary. He sings better than that. It wasn’t the cat. He’s sitting at my feet, the hair raised on his back. And it certainly wasn’t my imagination. Was it?
One thing I’ve learned watching whodunits is that if you hear strange noises in another part of your house, you should never go investigate, especially if you’re home alone, it’s a stormy night, the power is out and there’s scary movie music playing. Actors do that all the time, and it never ends well for them.


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