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FeedParadise Found
The existence of heaven is a matter of debate best left to theologians. But this much we know: Paradise lies right outside your door, in a place that some call God’s Country and others simply Minnesota (and, sometimes, western Wisconsin). Endowed by the Almighty or the glaciers (you pick) with a jackpot’s worth of lakes, ponds, fishing holes, and Sweet-Jesus-that’s-purty scenery, this region is a sort of Promised Land—but with state parks, scenic byways, island resorts, waffle shops, spas, and golf courses. Kingdom come, sure. But don’t hurry. We’ve got plenty to do here before then.
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Ludlow’s Island Resort
Inside a North Woods bubble, where going nowhere gets you far
By Tim Gihring
THE FIRST THING TO KNOW, upon arriving at Ludlow’s Island Resort, is that you won’t be leaving. Not for food or friends or even more s’mores fixings. Oh, you’re free to come and go. But you won’t. It’s too risky: Missed sunsets over the lake, lost opportunities for dockside naps, bypassed chances to ride these gizmos called hydrobikes. The island cat, Marina, briefly went ashore last year and came back pregnant. Leave and, well, you take your chances.
But mostly, the reason you never depart Ludlow’s until you have to is just that—you don’t have to.
The resort occupies the island’s entire five acres, with a small administrative lodge fronting the dock and 21 neat, inconspicuous cabins lining the shore, tucked amid the trees. It’s an oasis of casual civilization, ringed by the moat of Lake Vermilion. The boat ride to the resort (after you’ve summoned the valet from an antique phone on shore) takes only two minutes. Yet the island, one of 365 swimming in this 40,000-acre lake, feels epochs away from modern life. Littered with house-size boulders fringed by dainty ferns, it looks like someplace primeval. The resort might be an upscale Ewok village.
Islands are about trust: It’s just you and everyone else with a reason to be here. And so, when you arrive at Ludlow’s, you leave your car keys in a communal basket at the front desk and your wallet in your suitcase. Money never changes hands for boats, bait, or anything else until checkout. Kids are immediately untethered. Teens, when not crowded around the cell-phone booster, sign up for seaplane rides and nature hikes. Little ones scramble around a beached 34-foot cruiser-turned-playground.
As for food, you’re on your own—mostly: The resort store, operating on the honor system, stocks enough staples alongside lures and bobbers for a couple to live on for a while (and fancy stuff like capers, bruschetta, and polenta). A whole row of kitchen contraptions is yours to plunder: woks, waffle irons, ice-cream makers—the kind of appliances you’d never bother to use except while on vacation.
Which explains why my girlfriend and I are walking through the woods with a flashlight and a salad spinner. We didn’t want to leave the island to eat, so we’re making dinner—making do, actually, by checking out a few pantry items and hauling them back to our cabin kitchen. Our cabin appears rustic, decorated with old jugs, an antique saw the size of a shark (with teeth to match), and an ancient slab of buckskin above the fireplace, painted with an American Indian’s portrait. But the amenities are more Woodbury than woodsy. Croissants and a newspaper arrive each morning, and David Sedaris’s Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim and other literary reads line the bookshelf. And so we feast—pasta with wine and jazz CDs—even as we’re half-expecting, given the five photographs of moose on the walls, that a pair of antlers will soon appear in the window.
The next day, Mark Ludlow, the resort owner, shows us around the lake in his vintage wooden speedboat, which seems at home in this old-fashioned cabin country. Only half of the rocky, pine-lined shoreline is developed, and you’d never know that some of the hidden hideaways are owned by the Naegeles (of the billboard biz) and other prominent families. There are 286 loons on the lake at last count—about the same as on Lake Minnetonka, only these are the feathered kind, the most on any lake in the country, which makes for an ideal boater-to-bird ratio.
Ludlow, retired but rarely far from the resort that his son Paul now manages, taught entrepreneurship at the University of Minnesota for 20 years while building his eponymous island into a prosperous haven, even as a half-dozen other resorts on the lake began to sell out to lake-home developers. Mark’s grandfather was similarly ambitious: He and a partner bought up 36 of the lake’s islands. But he found them hard to re-sell, so he gifted some of the islands to his children and sold the rest back to the government. In the 1940s, National Geographic magazine declared Lake Vermilion one of the 10 most beautiful in the country, but only miners and Indians seemed to care about the area back then. Now Governor Tim Pawlenty is interested, having proposed a new state park along five miles of Lake Vermilion’s shore.
One afternoon, we break our own rule: We leave, for the sake of exploring. Ely, that near-mythical gateway to the Boundary Waters wilderness, beckons about 50 minutes away. Tourism has been a boon to this so-called “end of the road” town, though some locals haven’t always seen it that way. Not when the government was confiscating their Boundary Waters cabins in the ’60s and ’70s to make way for tents and canoes. A couple months before we arrive, six drunken men frighten off wilderness campers by firing pistols and an AK-47 into the air.
As we wander through Ely, the shop windows are filled with photographic portraits of town residents along with declarations of why they love living here, a community pride campaign that could be seen as either introducing visitors to the friendlier local citizenry or a reminder that this is their land, stakes to a claim.
We’re driving past mukluk stores and outfitters when my girlfriend spots her first wild moose. Unfortunately, it’s sprawled on a trailer with men and boys in orange hats standing around. It’s dead. And no amount of root beer at the Chocolate Moose Music Café will make us feel better about this.
Back on the island, we relax into some 1950s-era Life magazines (tellingly, the lodge also stocks Forbes), restoring our innocence. We’re the only guests on the island tonight—it’s late in the season. The last to leave were a woman and her angler husband, a gregarious guy whose hat declared “Bite me,” who supposedly caught his limit of walleye in 15 minutes. But we’re not here to fish or even boat. We’re here to stay put, to sit on these five acres and revel in their single-minded purpose of putting some distance between us and everything else.
Tim Gihring is a senior writer at Minnesota Monthly.
Destination: Southeast Minnesota
Think southeast Minnesota is best known for the Mayo Clinic? You should try some of the area’s waffles and river trips. Here are a few of the things we love most about the region.
Sweet Lou’s Waffle Bar
For most of history, waffles have been confined to the breakfast table. No longer. Sweet Lou’s Waffles in Northfield serves up sweet or savory waffles any time of day. Gobble up the Waffle Suzette with orange sauce for breakfast, then stick around for the Minnesito Burrito (cheddar, salsa, sour cream) for lunch. Or choose from more than 25 other toppings. Thanks to Lou’s, now you really can have three squares a day. 303 Division St., Northfield, 507-650-7592, sweetlouswaffles.com
Root River Outfitters
If you’ve got an extra $12 in your pocket, you could spend it on a ticket to a summer blockbuster and a box of Raisinettes. But what you should do is this: Head to Lanesboro, where that same $12 will get you an inner tube and a couple hours of floating on the Root River. You can bake yourself to a crisp, and perhaps even spot a few fish. When you arrive at your destination, a van will shuttle you back to where you started. 109 Parkway Ave. S., Lanesboro, 507-467-3663, riversideontheroot.com
Garvin Heights Park
Scenic views? Check. Hiking trails? Check. Wildflowers? Check. Winona’s Garvin Heights Park rises more than 500 feet from the river, boasting panoramic views of the Mississippi River Valley and Wisconsin bluffs. On a clear day, you’ll have a view for a good 25 miles or more. Tuck a blanket and a few snacks into your bag and enjoy some post-constitutional refreshments while enjoying the view from above. Just off of Hwy. 61 on Garvin Heights Road, Winona
Pottery Place Historic Mall
If the word “mall” makes you think of vast ugly spaces, it’s time to upgrade your experience. First stop in Red Wing: Pottery Place Historic Mall. More than a dozen unique shops offering pottery, antiques, and specialty items fill the city’s old pottery factory, a brick building with plenty of character. After you’ve finished your shopping, get some ice cream at the locally owned scoop shop Just Chillin’. 2000 W. Main St., Red Wing, rwpotteryplace.com
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