Vakkotaur

Saturday morning I set out for Albert Lea, MN (about an hour's drive) and went to the Big Island Rendezvous. I wandered about a bit not far from the gate, looking for rillaspins. Eventually I spotted her, or she spotted me. We went to see the oxen and after the demo, introduced us. I was invited inside the rope to get pictures up close. The hardest shot to get was one of the back of the head. The combination of a strange person and a thing that makes click sounds generated curiosity. The camera hog of an ox got some scritching.

The demo did not involve the actual oxen, but the fellow would pick out a couple teenage boys and have them play the part of oxen. The reactions worked well, keeping the audience entertained as he explained things. Sometime after the boys were yoked, he'd make mention of using a stick, and his words were calculated to make them nervous and the reactions were as expected. To the their relief he then pointed out that doing anything mentioned would be very counterproductive. A full grown ox can weigh 3000 pounds, and will neither forget nor forgive mistreatment. The stick (goad), he explained was use to tap gently to suggest which way to go when training and to reward with rubbing.

After we saw the oxen, Rilla took me around some of the site. Evidently she had misunderstood that this would be the first time I'd see Tanglefoot, not my first time at Big Island Rendezvous. We wound up at the stage where Tanglefoot would be performing and sat through at least part of the preceding act. Tanglefoot is that popular, you need to show up early to get a good seat. Or, judging by those in front of the front row, any seat at all. They're good performers though I'm not sure care for what they do. I can best describe the music as perhaps Modern Folk and Decidedly Canadian.

Once Tanglefoot's first performance was over I had lunch and wondered around a while. Since I'd met Rilla, seen the oxen, and seen Tanglefoot, the next thing was to find long leather boot laces. Fewer places seemed to have them than I'd recalled, and only one had sufficiently long laces in a good brown or tan. I rather doubt white would be a good match for the boots I wear.

During all this time, including during Tanglefoot's performance, there was a plane flying over, hauling a banner which read: SCREW THE OUT OF TOWNERS VOTE 4 THE SALES TAX NOV 8. I found it rather ironic, the out of towners by definition won't be paying that local tax most of the time, but the locals will. Also, the means of advertising didn't win any friends as it was a repeated unwanted noise.

There was enough noise as it was. The sound system in use wasn't too loud, but I wore my earplug when I was in the front row. But there was a crowd and that included loud kids, it was unusually hot (One of the members of Tanglefoot said it was strange to see the site above 35 degrees. It was in the 80s this time.) I talked with the fellow with the oxen a bit more, and then sat with Rilla and company for a while before leaving. Somewhere I got a nasty headache. I had planned on looking around Albert Lea a bit more, but it was bad enough I just wanted to go home, so I did.

Sunday was rather uneventful, which suited me just fine. About the only thing of note was that when I went to Subway for lunch I found out that a waitress that had been working at a restaurant in Sherburn was now working at Subway.

According to her, the restaurant in Sherburn is sold or will be sold soon. When the restaurant closes later this year, it will be for closed for the last time. It will be torn down and a gas station/convenience store put in. The site is near I-90, so that makes some sense. I've seen the restaurant as "Ma Faber's" (which was good) and then as "The Lighthouse" (which was not good) and then as "Our House" (which was good) and now as "Ma Faber's Lighthouse" (also good). Faber has been trying to sell the place for years now and if what I heard is correct, she finally found a buyer that might have a chance. Of course, the town, and the area, loses a decent restaurant in the process.