Nostalgia leads to the woods

U.S. 51 seemed as slender as the thread of my memories.

I’ve lived in Hawaii the last quarter-century and before that in San Francisco, but in my gut I’m still a Wisconsin boy. Although I was reared in Milwaukee, part of that growing up took place “up north” in Wisconsin’s Northwoods, an ambiguous area that, to Wisconsinites, can mean any place in the state north of Wausau.

Each summer of my youth, I would board a train to the YMCA’s Camp Manito-wish, in Vilas County, at the top of the state. Later, I worked nearby as a camp counselor.

Vilas County is true Northwoods country, with the ground scoured nearly flat by ancient ice walls, broken by moraines and pocked with chains of glacial lakes, thousands big and small -- a perfect place for a suburban boy to discover the outdoors. I remember vividly the overnight canoe trips, sometimes a week long, the sailing, the fishing, the eagles, the campfires, the splendid sense of isolation in that vast forested domain.

Also the mosquitoes, leeches, snapping turtles and tales of bears.

Not as well known and far larger than eastern Wisconsin’s Door County, the Northwoods offers an uncrowded, less commercial alternative for travelers seeking wilderness tempered by creature comforts. This stunning landscape -- especially Vilas, Oneida, Price, Iron, Ashland and Bayfield counties -- stretches west from the Nicolet National Forest to Bayfield and Lake Superior’s Apostle Islands. It’s long been a summertime refuge for Chicagoans and southern Wisconsinites.

I returned here briefly about 10 years ago, but last September I set out with a friend, John Franz, on a longer visit to reclaim my memories of the Northwoods.

The passenger train has since ceased to run, so from Madison we took U.S. 51, which bisects the state on its 250-mile northward plunge, roughly following the Wisconsin River to the border.

Most of my memories are of Vilas County, and we limited our expedition to that welcoming venue. Not that it was a burdensome limitation. Vilas is a vast and gently wild territory, with more than half a million acres of public forest, 73 rivers and streams, and more than 1,300 lakes.

Crossing the Wausau plateau, a couple of hours north of Madison, we could see dramatic changes in the topography. The rolling farmland of central Wisconsin gave way to the closest thing the state has to mountains, a cluster of huge monadnocks and xenoliths, including Rib Mountain, 1,924 feet at its highest. Rising only 670 feet above the plateau, Rib Mountain is nonetheless imposing, stretching toward the horizon as a 4-mile forested ridgeline.

From there it’s barely an hour north to Minocqua, the gateway to the Northwoods.

Genuine French pastry

Some things change. Some don’t.

Minocqua was much as I had remembered it. The town of 4,000 has more than its share of souvenir shops, motels, miniature golf courses and other attractions set on sparkling Lake Minocqua, home to summer water ski extravaganzas.

John and I hadn’t planned to tarry there, but as we rounded a curve in the town center, my finely tuned Francophile antennae picked up an anomalous signal: Out of the corner of my eye I spotted an Eiffel Tower image on a storefront window, along with the unexpected words: “La Baguette.” Of course we had to stop, fully expecting disappointment in territory not known for epicurean excellence.

Instead, we walked into the domain of Olivier and Carine Vigy, as genuine a French patisserie-boulangerie as I’ve seen outside Gaul. The aromas alone were enough to inform us that this was no ordinary bakery. The mounds of perfect baguettes and oval batards were telling clues too. But it was the display case, shipped from France and full of tarts, tortes, gateaux and -- my heart nearly stopped -- mille-feuilles that made me think I had been transported to the Ile-de-France. Who would have thought my peripatetic search for the perfect mille-feuille would take me to Minocqua?

Olivier, a master baker, and his wife, Carine, moved to the town from France a couple of years ago, mainly because they enjoyed the area’s tranquillity. They were embraced by locals and tourists alike. And why not? Their ovens, also imported from France, turn out some of the finest baked goods I’ve ever sampled.

And, yes, that mille-feuille, with a hint of orange flavor in the custard, was right up there on my all-world ranking. We ate more than we should have and promised to stop again on our way back.

The unexpected gave way to the familiar a few miles north as we crossed into Vilas County. I spotted a sign announcing the turnoff to Camp Manito-wish and felt compelled to follow it.

The county highway, a narrow, paved avenue parting the forest, brought back a flood of memories. One feels very alone on these back roads, with only glimpses of a lake or wetlands to break the tunnel of second-growth pines, tamaracks, birches and the occasional maple. (The virgin timber was cut long ago to build Chicago and Milwaukee.)

Not surprisingly, the area is a summer camp mecca for kids from across the Midwest. Camp Manito-wish is one of the oldest, celebrating its 85th birthday last summer.

When we arrived, the campers had gone home, but staff members were present and accommodated this aging former camper. A quick stroll around the shaded grounds, snug by a clear, calm lake and dotted with rustic cabins, validated my memories: This was a great place to be a kid.

It’s a pretty nice place to be an adult too. We confirmed this a few miles down the road, where we pulled into Voss’ Birchwood Lodge in Manitowish Waters.

Voss’ could double for a summer camp: The quiet grounds, graced by 18 comfortable cabins and a large lodge building fronting sprawling Spider Lake, are shaded by 80-foot pines and seem isolated from the rest of the world. Its unmistakable promise was of a retreat to bygone days, when recreation meant sitting by a lake with a good book or on a boat fishing.

The resort, which opened in 1909, had modern amenities, but the ambience hadn’t changed much. The main lodge, old but not tattered, was awash in memorabilia, including stuffed trophies of muskies -- large game fish -- and other local fauna, as well as photos of the lodge and the area dating to the 19th century. It’s still run by the Voss family and exudes the feel of a large home. Even the owners’ friendly dogs are given free rein.

We were lucky enough to meet Audrey Voss Dickerson and her daughter Ruth Gardner as we checked in. Audrey was born a year after her family opened the resort, and she’s been there since.

This wasn’t my first time at Voss’. More than 40 years ago, I worked at a summer camp a couple of hundred yards down the road, and occasionally I’d explore the area. Back then there were several major resorts in the vicinity, including Deer Park Lodge, where my parents vacationed.

The Northwoods attracted more than Chicago’s wealthy and middle-class tourists; among the more infamous were such gangsters as John Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson. In April 1934 tourism turned to tragedy when FBI agents botched an attempt to capture the gang, which was holed up at the Little Bohemia Lodge just down the road from Voss’. The FBI used Voss’ as a staging area, Audrey Dickerson said. Three agents drove into a neighboring resort and were confronted by the fleeing Nelson, who shot all three, killing one.

Little Bohemia persists as a restaurant, with lots of Dillinger lore, bullet holes included.

There were no bullet holes, fortunately, in our comfortable cabin at Voss’, but there was a living room with fireplace and some amenities, including a fire ready to be lighted, with birchbark kindling and dried logs. The divided bedroom had two large beds. It was too early to light a fire, so John and I decided to explore the neighborhood.

Less public access

My old camp, Sidney Hill, had been parceled away to private homeowners. Likewise, when we looked for the Deer Park Lodge up the lane from Voss’, we were greeted by a glistening new condo-resort development. It looked comfortable -- not to mention expensive -- but it didn’t come close to capturing the rustic Northwoods ambience of the old place.

Property values have risen so precipitously here in recent decades, and taxes along with them, that the resort owners are almost compelled to sell their large lakefront holdings, Audrey Dickerson told me. The lakes, as beautiful as they are, have fewer and fewer public access areas, and houses and condos are supplanting the old resorts.

Even the old diner nearby had been gentrified. No longer a roadside greasy spoon, it had blossomed into a well-regarded restaurant specializing in -- of all things in these parts -- Cajun cuisine.

I didn’t spend all my time reminiscing. The marina next to Voss’ rented all manner of boats, so the next day John and I took an aluminum canoe and headed up the chain of lakes. Spider Lake is just one of 10 connected lakes, perfect for canoe trips. We crossed two and entered the third before we had to think about getting the canoe back by closing time.

The clear water, caramel-hued from the surrounding tamarack trees, was calm and warmer than the crisp, clear air. My paddling skills, acquired in youth, hadn’t deserted me; I was stroking with abandon, at least until I jammed my thumb on the gun whale. We passed a few fishing boats, but most of the summer crowd had left.

The amount of private development surprised me. Houses, some sumptuous, ringed each of the lakes, leaving virtually no public land. If you know where to look, though, there are lots of state campgrounds, and area outfitters can help plan longer trips.

After returning the canoe, we walked a few miles on the wooded State House Lake Trail, following part of the Manitowish River. We had the forest to ourselves.

We looked forward to dinner in Voss’ large dining room overlooking the lake and a repository for dozens of antique duck decoys. The staffers, mostly young blonds from Estonia, were charming, but we were disappointed with the menu. Not that we should have been, because it offered the comfort food I would have expected 40 years ago -- fried walleye, steaks, pork tenderloin.

Some things don’t change.

Back in our cabin, we lighted a crackling fire and toasted the old days with a good California Merlot.

For all the change, most of the things I had admired about the Northwoods remain. The forests are relatively empty. The air is unpolluted. The lakes are clean.

And places like Voss’ keep their doors open.

*

Wilderness routes

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, connecting service (change of planes) to Madison, Wis., is offered on United, Northwest, American, Midwest Express, ATA and Continental. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $138.

WHERE TO STAY:

Voss’ Birchwood Lodge, U.S. 51, Manitowish Waters, Wis.; (715) 543-8441. Open June to October. Lodge rooms $65-95; cottages and suites with kitchen $95-$175.

Chippewa Retreat Resort & Spa, 37 Deer Park Road, Manitowish Waters; (877) 937-3664, www.chippewaretreat.com. Open all year. New condo resort development with pool and spa. Rates September-June $109-$201, three-night minimum; July-August $130-$370, seven-night minimum.

The Pea Patch Motel & Saloon, 145 State Highway W, Manitowish Waters; (715) 543-2455, www.thepeapatch.com. Eleven motel rooms and kitchenettes. Doubles $48.

WHERE TO EAT:

La Baguette, Minocqua Galleria, 700 N. U.S. 51, Minocqua; (715) 358-6953. Sandwiches, coffee, breads and amazing pastries, $1-$20.

Blue Bayou Inn, U.S. 51 South, at Spider Lake Bridge, Manitowish Waters; (715) 543-2537. Cajun and Creole specialties, including blackened breast of duck steak ($26) and bayou kitchen jambalaya ($21).

Little Bohemia Restaurant, U.S. 51, Manitowish Waters; (715) 543-8433, www.littlebohemia.net. Middle European fare, including pork shank with sauerkraut ($20) and veal paprika ($14).

TO LEARN MORE:

Manitowish Waters Chamber of Commerce, U.S. Highway 51 and Airport Road, P.O. Box 251, Manitowish Waters, WI 54545; (888) 626-9877 or (715) 543-8488, www.manitowishwaters.org.

Wisconsin Department of Tourism, P.O. Box 7976, Madison, WI 53707-7976; (800) 432-874, www.travelwisconsin.com.

-- James Dannenberg