I learn two new words …

Yes­ter­day I learned two new words; yoop­er and pasties.

Yoop­er. Every­body calls the Upper Penin­su­la “the U.P.,” hence the indige­nous natives are known as Yoop­ers. I resist­ed the impulse to buy a bumper stick­er that says “You say Yoop­er like it’s a bad thing.”

The Yoop­ers remind me a lot of Min­nesotans. Their win­ter is so long and so harsh and so awful that when June comes around they just can’t stay indoors any more. This camp­ground is packed.


As you can see, we’re the only ones here with­out an RV. In oth­er words, the only peo­ple who are real­ly enjoy­ing the camp­ing expe­ri­ence, lol noobs.

The oth­er word, pasties, does not, I fear, refer to those things with tas­sels that the femalians wear in the tit­ty bars. Here, pasties (“pass-tees”) are meat-pota­to-veg­etable pies in a flaky crust, served hot with gravy. The boys and I thought they made a great lunch.

Any­way, here it is, dawn on the west­ern shore of the mighty Lake Michi­gan. They actu­al­ly have a bird here that says “Ow!”