From Spicer to Battle Lake

Thursday morning started early as 694 brought me up to 94 and then, just south of St. Cloud, 23 dropped me down past the towns of Cold Spring, Paynesville and then Spicer. The early morning sun cast the longer waves of the spectrum, making the fresh summer greens all the more lush. Given time to spare there was no hurry, and each hill would present a new farmyard, cow pasture or miniature town.

In Rockville there were these great majestic boulders, reflecting in ponds, glacial erractics deposited ions ago. Unlike most, these would not be lodged free by farmers and had been there ever since the glaciers melted. A unique site in open farm country.

Spicer was hilly, green and, splotched with patches of trees, growing more free than those found in windbreaks. The properties shot would run the gamut. From a fishing resort of trailers and cottages to one of the most historic houses remaining in the country.

Green Lake is the main attraction in Spicer and this and many others, have fed a resort business catering to water recreation. Plenty of fishing boats could be seen out in the expansive waters as well as drifting in the smaller and lushest of lakes and ponds I have seen. Old grain elevators and train track routes provide echoes of a farming history that has given way to bike paths and boat dealerships.

A friendly Italian woman laughed and showed me around her property, waving and chatting to her regular guests as we passed. Like many owners, she spoke of the great fishing and what people had been catching, but noted that they've hardly been able to get out themselves.

Lunch was at the Westwood Cafe "For regulars and other special people." It was small and home town - exactly the thing I search for. Eggs, toast and salty and savory wild rice sausage.

The next property was owned by a more reserved fellow, seated at an outside table and who patted his lips clean of lunch as I approached. His family had owned this land for three generations and were continuing the tradition.

I would be lodging at the site of my next day's shoot. That makes it nice and convenient. I wake, pack and then shoot, with no call for transit. The name 'Spicer Castle' could mean many things. Was it large and decrepit? Fancy and elitist? Or just another property raising expectations with its name only to greet you with a gift of the mediocre? This would be none of those things.

I pulled up the drive, a shaded gravel path that climbed some 100 yards towards an old, wooden mansion. It had a Germanic half-timber style about it, but was clearly aged authentic as it showed the weathering as an old house should. I parked and wandered the old grounds, half gazing at the dark structure above me, half looking for the owner. I entered the door into a house that had elements of Mrs. Haversham's from Great Expectations, old and just a wee bit spooky. I found a college aged worker that was looking for the same person as I.

By one of the outside cottages I found her. The great grand daughter of John Spicer now ran his old summer house as a bed and breakfast. She showed me the cottages where I would be staying, but upon hearing that I like history, took my on a tour of the entire property, leaving the site of my respite entirely up to me. My gosh, what a treat! How would I deal with indecisiveness? While the outdoor buildings would offer more privacy, the house itself may hold more antiquity. "Are you sure you don't mind?", I ask several times. "Whatever is easiest for you!", I remarked, but she insisted that it was more than fine. She would lead me to this room and that, "This was the master bedroom... this has a hanging bed...this has its own outside porch...," well, you get the idea. I hoped that the spirits would speak to me, as each room was named for the member of the family that used to reside in it. I chose "Mason's" room. He had been a captain in the Spanish-American War and afterwards an attorney in the district courts. His room felt of study and legacy and had windows facing the lake, that allowed in the sounds of the shoreline. Tea would be at four.

One lump of sugar in my peppermint tea, a spoon full of peanuts, a tart, a marshmallow bar and a seat in the wrap around second-story porch. The many-payned windows looked out at the immense lake and an open door blew in the afternoon breeze. Damn! I must remember not to put my elbows on the table and in such a canine fashion!

I spoke a good while with the owner and another elderly woman quite witty and full of information. They recommended Manny's for dinner.

At Manny's was bacon-wrapped, cream cheese-stuffed jalepenos and, what else, walleye.

I suggested that I film the setting sun, as Mr. Spicer had chosen that location specifically for the grand view of the setting sun. When I returned to do so, an elderly fellow thought it would be a good idea to shoot the property from out in the water. Capital idea! I grabbed my gear and this fellow and idea motored out from shore. The 3-ton vessel was one that he had built specifically for the property. Accommodating up to about 40 peopled, this modernized river boat guided us away from shore. I shot as much as I could, not knowing how much pitching, yawing and engine vibration would appear in the shots. It was special.

Before I head up to the house I entered a conversation with the aged chap. He had been a mining geologist. He also liked to dispense information about everything, in a slow...purposeful... and pre-meditated fashion. In was more a one-sided conversation but interesting nonetheless. He said many things that made you want to look them up later as well as those things I knew, or at least, shared the perspective of. "Contrary to...the popular belief... the issue...was not so much about slavery...as it was... about tariffs..."

I broke away in time to catch the setting sun, from the main room, where a 30's-ish couple was speaking to one in there 80's. I found it apropos to light up my pipe and wander the grounds. These were remnants of the past. Walking the grounds of a large country house you could imagine yourself back in time. With a pipe or cigar you'd walk. Slow-paced strides with a syncopated puff, puff. Inside they'd be gathered round the piano signing "The Third Verse of Mary and John" (click HERE to listen) and you could here Parker hamming it up even from where you were.

Sleep was in Mason's bed and the sound of the lapping water below. Before bed I tried to wrap up my work as soon as possible, very conscious that each foot step produced a "creak, creak, creak" that reverberated through the house.

The day before they invited me to breakfast before I shoot. Under such a special circumstance I took them up on the offer. It was me and three different couples (a formula I have grown quite accustomed to) at the northern end of a long table in another windowed porch. A glass of tangerine-like juice sat awaiting. Upon drinking this, my server gave me coffee and we were then presented with a large glass full of a creamy-white concoction. It ended up being granola and strawberries in a rich cream. The strawberries became almost overpowering, but the granola and cream came to the rescue! Alright, I was more than full. Next a plate of frosted cupcakes were placed upon the table. I held back, knowing very well that a main course might be coming. As I sipped my coffee, in sauntered the very man that I had been speaking with the evening before. He introduced himself as John Spicer's grandson. It was the man who built the boat. The geologist guy.

The egg dish came and people did their best to listen and engage themselves in the lecture. In time I got the shoot and wrapped things up. During the shoot I asked if we might shoot from the turret and up through the attic we went. Old Mrs. Spicer used to play bridge with her friends up there! I also climbed to the very top as well! Before I left I took a picture of the grandson. In an old tractor he seemed to be imitating one of the first pursuits of his grandfather. From farming to bringing the railroad in to town with J.J. Hill. Anyway, this grandson was a piece of history himself!

Final shots of Spicer included more of the lake and Sibley State Park. I found a pull off where an old farmhouse used to be but had been since removed. So there I did takes of small bit and shots of the surrounding. There were big rolling cumulus clouds running behind the oak trees. The grass waved in pulses across the glen. Red-winged blackbirds sung up in a bare tree next to a large pond and dragonflies buzzed spasmodically to and fro. Something crawled in the grass near me but disappeared completely. The only interruption was the army of ticks crawling up my legs. Every 15 seconds or so, I would knock them off, only to have more ascend. I was impressed with their persistence but aware of their intent. But all things considered, I'd have it no other way.

I searched Willmar for dinner. What I found was predominately Mexican markets and barber shops. I was fascinated at the strong Hispanic presence and indebted to them for reinvigorating a dying downtown. There was an northeaster African presence as well.

I ate at Jack's pizza, the only restaurant that I could find that was not a Taco Johns or the like. There sausage, mushroom, green olive pizza was superb!

Another very early morning jaunt brings me into Dalton to shoot a resort that had been owned by the same family for 110 years! I had passed that giant crow in Belgrade and a brief stop at the local filling station gave me a chance to hear farmer gossip. "He's put that fertilizer on too early... he's planted those rows too close together, a pheasant couldn't even walk between 'em... no wonder he's getting 500 bushes per acre..." Is there anything more rich than that?!

Having earlier seen the Dalton Cafe, it became pressing upon me to eat there. Small town cafe for sure! The walleye breakfast was still available. Walleye in a salted batter, chopped potatoes, two sunyside eggs and toast. The farmer folk made there plans for the day and I wondered when I might return here. I also made a quick stop at an old 66' GTO on the side of the road.

On the road again. This drive to Battle Lake brought more swervy roads and greenness. I did the shoot and it was suggested to eat at Zorbaz. It was a pizza/Mexican chain big in this northwest lake area. It was a party bar for sure. Boaters could pull up in the rear and bikers in the front. It was predominately families however. The enchilada made me wonder if I've been exaggerating, it too may have been the best enchilada I've ever had. I'll this best food so close to home!

Earlier that day I saw the final weigh-in at the fish tournament. Catch 1 and 2, number of fish and total weight. Top prize was a few thousand.

Well, that's this leg so far. Mighty happy to be doing the next few in the best state I know! Still, it makes you realize that the exploration will never be complete. What a nice thought that is.