chances

If something has a 10% chance of happening, you have to assume that's not zero. But if you're told it's 1%, well, you kind of assume your paths wont cross. Even though even 1% is not zero. And here's the thing: even 0 isn't really 0. You can always say -- well, it had a 0% chance of happening, but new data appeared and we've revised it so not it's way higher. 

I thought about this as I woke up in our huge soft bed in Mineral Point. The stone walls had kept the heat out -- we'd turned off the air conditioning -- but still, I was quick to read that we would be reaching some pretty toasty temperatures today in south central Wisconsin. But here's the surprise! All those predictions of storms and rain? Out the door! I read that for the better part of the day, the chance of rain has gone down to 1%.

That's great news for us! We'd already decided to return to the farmette today, but now we have a chance to return to Governor Dodge State Park again for another hike. No need to fret about rains and storms!

But first, we go down to the main street of Mineral Point and find a place for breakfast. Cafe 43. This one:

I knew they had tables outside and they offered all the good stuff I love for a breakfast away from home. Ed was feeling that it's maybe a tad early to be thinking about food, but no matter: we sit down, I eat.

He watches.

I have a different perspective on Mineral Point this morning: some of the shops are open, there is a little more commotion out there. As people come in and out of the cafe and as I watch a group of very senior women gossip over their cups of coffee, I think -- well now, this town has some lovely stuff going on here!

 

 

 

Ed and I dont take any of the architectural walks that one could do. He's anxious to get to the forests. I'm fine with that. But we do pop into a cheese maker -- Hook's. We have a Hook's 5 year cheddar every single Sunday before dinner, because the kids love it so very much (the adults too, but our tastes are broader than just that). Time to say hello.

They're not making cheeses today, but that's okay: Ed and I have visited plenty of cheese producers over the years in Wisconsin, and in France, and in Italy, and honestly, there's a lot of similarity in the process for all. Still, we chat a little about the cheddar and, too, about a Ewe's blue cheese that is exceptionally wonderful. (They get the sheep's milk from a woman who has 800 sheep up near Fond du Lac. That's a lot of sheep!) And of course, we buy a chunk of the Ewe's Blue. And dig in as we leave their place.

And then we drive out. Past Pendarvis -- the site of some of the first miners' cottages from the 1830s.

(I should note, too, that our Airbnb was in a house that was built in 1839: we slept in the old kitchen area of the rather stately home.)

And then we drive north and east, just a handful of miles, back to Governor Dodge Park. We are ambitious: Ed proposes the Meadow Valley Trail, which is rated "difficult" because of the amount of ups and downs and the distances involved. Perhaps we are excessively ambitious: we zap onto this the Bat Cave loop. Ed will not ever go inside a bat cave (humans can bring a viral load that can sicken bats), but we are happy to walk the area outside the caves during the season where it is considered safe to be there.

 

 

 

 (tall stuff)

 

 

(short stuff)

 

(from up high)

(then down below)

In all, we cover a lot of ground! Yes, it is a sweaty hike, but really not too bad! The woods give us a cool shade. Occasionally, a breeze comes out of the blue, refreshing us. Well, not out of the blue. The skies stay mostly gray and some of them do look like they might explode into something wet or maybe even stormy, but the 1% prediction holds: we get nothing threatening at all. And not even a drop of rain.

(favorite moment: sitting on a bench and looking out on this...)

(oh, the goldenrod!)

But despite the clouds, we are hot. As we come close to the lake, the temptation to jump right into the water is overwhelming! Oh, it's not the clearest water on the planet, but the Park ranger had told us that they check the water daily for noxious stuff and so far it's been okay. We take a chance, clothes and all!

As we walk back to the car, I throw out some comment about having escaped bad storms and bad outcomes all around. I think about our good fortune and how much I lean on this guy walking now next to me. 

Ed, if you die, can I still talk to you?

Sure, only not too much.

Hey, you can't set the rules on that!

No more than once a week, okay?

I'm not promising!

Back in the car, we munch on fruits I had packed for us from home, and Ed digs into a slice of leftover pizza. 

This sure feels like a vacation straight out of the 50s, he tells me with a smile. I'm not exactly sure which elements make it so, but he is right -- a throw back to another era when trips were local, foods were straight out of a paper bag, and the swim was a quick dunk in a lake you happened to drive by.

And then we return home, with only one stop: at our favorite chocolate shop! For a box, to share for the next 16 days. (There are 16 chocolates in it.) A fitting souvenir from our very mini and very wonderful vacation.