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Bayfield:
Hot fun and cold adventure
Two scenes from the same day: Scene 1: In the morning, the sky had the clarity of blue that only Arctic cold provides. Ten inches of fresh snow blanketed the forest floor, and the only sound came from our boots, scrunching across it. Until the dogs saw us coming. Then the air filled with baying, yipping and clanking chains. The huskies wanted to run. We hooked up sleds, tied the dogs into their harnesses and took our places. I got to drive first, standing on the runners. My instructor sat in the sled. I let my foot off the snowbrake, and the dogs quit barking and plunged into motion. Suddenly we were immersed in the beauty of the winter woods -- sun sparkling on snow, white birch bark against blue sky, the music of the dogs breathing hard and the hiss of runners on the trail. Scene 2: In the evening at the Rittenhouse Inn, the yellow glow of candles danced in the crystal wine glasses. A fire roared in the gilded hearth. A Bach concerto rose and fell above the sound of conversation at the tables. By the time the fourth course arrived, my friends and I had already achieved that state of bliss that only a well-prepared meal provides. The waiter gently placed in front of us such delicacies as
hazelnut-crusted pheasant breast, Those were two very different sorts of experiences, in what easily could
have been two entirely different parts of the world -- Instead, they converged in one quiet, snow-covered village on the south The contrasts between urbane pleasures and icy adventure made for a very pleasant long weekend in Bayfield last March. I spent the days outside in the snow and the nights inside, enjoying fine food and friends. It's a natural combination in Bayfield. Perched on the northern tip of Bayfield's population of about 600 swells to more than 3,000 when its cabins, bed-and-breakfasts and inns are full each summer. Winter is a different story. There's a certain lack of urgency in the air. Cruising around town one afternoon, mine was the lone car on the road that
passes the harbor. A police cruiser passing the other way slowed, and the
officer unrolled her window, smiling pleasantly. We exchanged how-do-you-dos
and then she "Don't worry about it," she said. "Just turn around when you get a chance." Around the corner, I found the mayor behind the cash register in his sporting goods store, Apostle Island Outfitters, which didn't have any other customers at the moment. "We're the epitome of a small tourist town," Larry MacDonald said. "You know you're a local when you get upset because you didn't get the [parking] spot right in front of the grocery store, but the second one over." McDonald said the major issues facing the town are skyrocketing property values and a permanent population that hasn't grown in a long time. "We have 611 people, and our goal is to get back to a thousand permanent residents," he said. "It's been 50 or 60 years since we had a thousand people, with various businesses dying off over the years." Those would be lumber, the A handful of small fishing boats still operate from Bayfield, and there is
some lumbering in the area, , but neither industry
is booming the way they were at the turn of the century, when boosters hoped
Bayfield would be the next "When the economy hit the skids after World War II, nobody had any money to tear buildings down," McDonald said. That left Bayfield with a wealth of Queen Anne-style homes, tidy fishermen's cottages and gorgeous mansions. "In the 1970s, the town made a comprehensive plan -- that's what saved us," the mayor said. Strict zoning means even the gas stations have subtle signage and a vaguely Victorian look. Clapboard siding makes even a pump island look somehow quaint. Thirty years later, Bayfield has the kind of gentrified tourism that is self-sustaining. "We're not interested in modern kinds of amusements -- go-kart tracks, water parks," MacDonald said. "We want to keep our small town intact." Mush Dogsledding is not a modern kind of amusement. It's an ancient mode of transportation that fits well with the kind of quiet tourism Bayfield wants to encourage. John and They designed their own line of winter clothes, and when they're not sailing or sledding, they're sewing woolen anoraks, parkas and hats. I joined a couple from John and The dogs moved at a steady lope, somewhere between 6 and 8 miles per hour, panting happily. "We've never had someone come and do this and say, that was just all
right," At lunchtime, we picketed the dogs in some trees and set up a picnic
ground for ourselves on The Thiels unpacked a hot lunch: homemade cream of wild rice soup, hot pasties from a Bayfield bakery called Judy's Gourmet Garage, and dense, rich chocolate brownies as big as a large man's fists. The pasty is a fixture in the cuisine of northern Digging in, I thought that if the dogs hadn't won me over, the lunch would have. Rittenhouse I parked on the street, shouldered my bag and looked up at the imposing The Rittenhouse stands on a hill that commands a view of the whole bay, and you can tell that when the architect surrounded the house with a massive wraparound porch, he had that view in mind. Julie Phillips was working the front desk when I checked in. She told me
the Rittenhouse was "People started taking a little more pride in their homes when they saw how impressed outsiders were with what we have here," she said. "Bayfield was designated a historic town." Now 52 houses and buildings in Bayfield are on the National Register of Historic Places. Phillips said that the Rittenhouse was built in 1890 by a wealthy man from
In 1974, They restored the house to its Victorian grandeur, right down to the wallpaper. They planned concerts. They created a gourmet restaurant. And the Rittenhouse became a model of what a good bed-and-breakfast should be. I was meeting several friends at the Rittenhouse -- two couples and another solo traveler. I had time to change out of my dogsledding clothes before they arrived, and the four of us still had time to walk around town and visit a bookstore, a working pottery and a coffeehouse before getting dressed up for our grand dinner. The courses came in a steady progression -- cream of spinach soup, smoked
lake trout with Before dessert came, our waiter presented a diamond ring to one of my tablemates, who then asked his girlfriend to marry him. She said yes, and toasts were made late into the night. I went back to my room, lit the fire and got into bed. I could hear the
wind off -- © Copyright 2003 Star
Tribune. All rights reserved. |
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