photography: Mathew Gilson
Take in the view of Wisconsin's
glorious fall foliage from Eagle Tower in Peninsula State Park. |
I was daydreaming with a friend a couple of years back, fantasizing on finding a
seaside destination with all the country qualities I loved in the fancy communities
outside New York City where I'd spent my last 10-plus summers, but without the heavily skewed Hummer-to-pickup truck ratio. I imagined quaint fishing villages surrounded by big expanses of untouched countryside, a place rich in tradition and lost in time, a place nobody knows about (or at least nobody that I know knows about). One weekend last fall, that dream became reality in Wisconsin.
Door County is a 75-mile-long peninsula jutting north into Lake Michigan. The area was settled during the mid-1800s largely by Scandinavian fishermen, and that culture thrives today in its small smoked-fish houses, Swedish bakeries and restaurants, and Friday night fish boils (allegedly a Viking tradition). Add to that the promise of entire whitewashed towns, Craftsman houses, lovely inns, changing leaves, and pick-your-own orchards, and I could see why this place is often referred to as "the Cape Cod of the Midwest." Without ever having visited Door County or anywhere within 1,500 miles of it, I was convinced that there I would find my laid-back, rural, vacation salvation.
It's October, just in time to catch Door County's colorful leaves before they fall from the trees. After a short commuter flight from Chicago to Green Bay, I rent a car, stop to buy some wool socks (nothing can prepare a California girl for Great Lakes cold), and head north.
photography: Mathew Gilson
Jim and Clare Webb restored the Hillside Inn, located in Ephraim, into the most elegant in the area. |
As I turn into Fish Creek, a tiny village situated along a bend in the water's edge, I'm charmed by the beauty of this place, and I secretly wonder if I might find a way to live here—at least part time. During the next few days, as I drive the length of the peninsula on both sides, winding through thick canopies of bright fall leaves, I continually slow down to peer through the woods at the little waterside cottages that dot the orange, red, and yellow forests. Could I someday call one home?
photography: Mathew Gilson
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If I'm going to live here, I naturally want to know what's on the regional menu. So I set out to eat my way through the towns. I sit and people-watch in Fish Creek and stop in the Moravian settlement of Ephraim for a burger and malt at Wilson's restaurant & Ice Cream Parlor. In Ellison Bay, I experience my first fish boil, and in Gills Rock, I visit Charlie's Smokehouse, where I decide that stuffing jam jars into my suitcase is one thing, whole fish are another. And I stop at every farm stand I see, as though I might take home the essence of the place in a bag of chocolate-covered cherries.My last stop is Washington Island, at the peninsula's northernmost tip. Just a short ferry ride through a channel known as "Death's Door" for the number of ships that sank there over the centuries, Washington Island is so free of the area's tourist trappings, and so quiet and isolated, that it has a lovely, lonely feel. After eating a smoked whitefish pizza beside the fire in
The Washington Hotel's acclaimed restaurant, I notice in the gift shop soft alpaca wool throws for sale. I pay a visit to the weaver's home nearby. It's there, in her home, with its inviting front porch, open floor plan, and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the untouched shoreline of Lake Michigan (the middle of nowhere, I believe) that I see my fantasy come to life. She offers me a log cabin down the road, also on the water, that she is selling. I go for a peek, but I can't imagine my life inside those walls. I'm so far from home. I don't have friends or roots here. And, alas,
vacation is but a season.
You Could Live Here
Although you can barely see the houses for the trees that surround them, the grand Craftsman-style "cottages" on Fish Creek's Cottage Row were built in the 20th century by notable Saint Louis architects.
Park the Car and Explore
ALL THINGS CHERRY
Koepsel's Farm Market, 920/854-2433 or koepsels.com.
Even if you don't want to pick your own cherries or apples (only some markets offer this), a stop at one of the area’s roadside farmers’ markets is a must. Koepsel’s Farm Market, which doesn’t offer pick-your-own, sells a vast selection of cherry products, including dried cherries (plain and chocolate-covered), and for the deli counter in back, which offers Wisconsin products like cheese curds and the country’s tastiest bacon: Neuske's.
SCENIC DRIVE - HIGHWAY 42
In case you're inclined to think a drive is just a means to an end, early 20th-century landscape architect Jens Jensen supposedly laid out the short, beautiful stretch of Highway 42 between Gills Rock and the Northport ferry dock (where Washington Island Ferry Line departs) that winds back and forth in an "S" shape for its aesthetic value, and to force drivers to slow down and enjoy the scenery. It succeeds on both counts.
GREAT VIEWS
Eagle Tower, www.dnr.state.wi.us. Park in the gorgeous Peninsula State Park, heavily wooded with white cedar, maple, and pine trees, between Fish Creek and Ephraim, and make the 75-foot climb up its Eagle Tower, where you can peer over the village of Ephraim and surrounding waterways and islands.
Ellison Bluff County Park, doorcounty.com.
Just south of the town of Ellison Bay, take the short detour to Ellison Bluff County Park and enjoy the majestic view of the dramatic bluffs that frame the western side of the peninsula.
