For a moment, I thought we were being attacked by aliens while driving through Florence, Wisconsin, Saturday morning. Turned out, it was a hot air balloon.

January 7, 2018 - Sunday

13 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday morning when I witnessed the thermometer registering -25.

Not long after, my good friend of many years, Eileen, sent a picture of what the folks in northern Maine have been going through the past few days. This picture was taken about forty miles from my old stomping grounds and near where my son, Andy, lives. It shows one of the area's main arteries completely blocked by heavy and drifting snow.

That's the top of the hood of a large plow truck.

Despite frigid temperatures, yesterday was one of the more pleasant days we've had in several weeks. The sun was bright and there was little wind.

I enjoyed watching the hot air balloon as I was driving home from Iron Mountain Saturday morning.

The pilot made one attempt to land, but found himself coming down in some trees. With a whoosh of flame, the balloon quickly rose to several hundred feet over the ground.

I have no idea how he controlled the balloon, but it was soon brought back near the original landing area where it hovered for a few minutes.

At just the right time, he began releasing air and the balloon made a perfect landing in a small clearing. Pretty impressive!

Once home, I busied myself putting skis on the Clam portable ice fishing shelter.

I'd forgotten one ski was cracked and had to be laminated using epoxy.

Though the temperatures had barely climbed above zero, it was enjoyable working in front of the barn, soaking up the bright sunshine along with the heat that was being generated from the black pavement. I was able to work without wearing gloves for well over an hour.

I went fishing for a couple of hours late Saturday afternoon. 

It's nice to be able to hop on the Tundra in our backyard and be fishing five minutes later.

Once again, my results were nil, but I'm not going to give up. I've made up my mind that I'll drill a million holes in that lake if I have to until I find where the bluegills and crappies are hanging out. They certainly aren't where they normally are, but the lake is five feet higher than it used to be. Seems everything has changed.

Sargie was home late last night, but has today off. I think I'll sneak down to the lake for a couple of hours and be back home by mid morning. I will find those fish. By all that is holy, I WILL find those fish.

We'll, no doubt, go for our ride later today and Sargie's agreed to lend me a hand in getting Rudolph and the angel wrapped and placed up over the shop. Christmas will officially be over for another year. 

Time to get a move on.

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Sunset over Neighbor Mike's on Saturday evening