The bluffs along the Mississippi River east of Eau Claire, Wisconsin

October 26, 2020 - Monday morning (I think)

24 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Eau Claire, Wisconsin

Whew, I just brewed a cup of hotel room coffee, that prepackaged stuff, and let me tell you, it takes a manly man to drink it. 

Strong?

I feel as though someone just filled my tank with jet fuel and lit the afterburners. Sweat is pouring down my face and my ten digits are flying so fast that I'm certain letters are being lifted from the keys. 

I'm thinking that today's java might be better used as stripper for refinishing furniture. Knowing that, I hope to keep a bit of my body hair. The upside would be that I'll never have to shave again.

I'm a weak coffee drinker, a real light weight. Even my sons kick sand in my caffeine face when they visit. 

Being the long distance, marathon kind of guy, as in my drinking days, I swallow (not sip) coffee strictly for quantity, NOT quality. At most, I dump one scoop into the filter each morning before inhaling several cups while writing. Anything stronger upsets my stomach. 

Coffee snobs who insist on grinding their own beans of name brand, fair trade, java, then dump a concoction that makes it taste more like a chocolate milk shake with fifi whipped cream and other stuff... I kick caffeine sand in their faces.

As long as my brew has a tinge of color, is near boiling hot, and doesn't bite or give me any sass, I'll call it my morning delight and happily drink the stuff as I write.

We departed Williamsburg, Iowa, mid Sunday morning and made our way to the Amana Colonies.

There are seven old German colonies and all resemble the other. Large brick communal buildings mark each and though most are now private homes, we drove up and down several streets playing tourist, gawking, and taking pictures.

Our best discovery of the day was made well off the beaten path, an old Hutterite cemetery where it appears burials began in the early 1800's.

All the graves were laid out in neat rows and it appeared that even today, plots are placed by date of death, not in family units.

It was from the cemetery onto Amana Village, the community that has obviously transitioned to tourism. The village holds a huge German Oktoberfest yearly, but naturally, all of that was cancelled due to the Covid.

Still, the community was welcoming and open for business.

Our first stop was at Ronneburg Restaurant where home cooked meals are served family style with all the sides you can eat.

We enjoyed warm homemade bread, homemade cottage cheese, pickled beets, and locally brewed root beer and cream soda while waiting for our main course.

Already full from sampling the appetizers, we bellied up to a meal of frankenborgenschnitzellalablahblahblah.

In English, we'd call it a big ol', very tender, breaded pork chop with real, homemade mushroom gravy over real mashed potatoes, rather than those gobs of Elmer's Glue stuff made from flakes. There was sweet AND sour sauerkraut, steamed veggies, and other goodies too numerous to mention.

Homemade pie for dessert? Duh, what do you think? Sargie had German Chocolate pie. I took the high road and dove into a piece of five berry pie.

With the promise that we'd see our newest BFF, Annette, our server, next year, we waddled out of the restaurant and onto the street where Sargie found the Amana General Store.

Seems the general store wasn't so general after all. Inside were rooms and rooms, those that stretched for miles and miles, all filled with Christmas goodies as far as the eye could see.

Though I wasn't in the Christmas mood going in, I certainly was coming out. With soft Christmas music playing in the background by a German polka band, the rooms were magical as well as beautiful.

It was early afternoon before we bade the colonies goodbye and drove through northern Iowa. Light snow began falling as we neared the Minnesota border and increased substantially the further north we went.

Stopping for gas, I had to push hard on the door as ice had encased the entire side of the car.

Still, a Yooper northen gal and a northern Alaskan boy? 

Piece of cake.

Though driving wasn't pleasant, we arrived across the Mississippi River in Eau Claire without incident early last evening. A perfectly cooked Dominos pizza, delivered to our hotel room door, concluded another wonderful day.

On today's agenda, simply put, I don't know. We've talked of going north to Duluth, Minnesota, but it's cold and snowy up there. There's the option to go east across Wisconsin to shop at a mall in Steven's Point. Then we may just pack our bags and head back to Pentoga Road.

Put it this way, with all the caffeine pulsing through my veins, if Sargie doesn't awaken fairly soon, I may stick my head in the bedroom and yodel a tune or two... in falsetto, no less.

It's just the way I roll.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...