It’s 20 below zero with wind chill, but a group of guys sporting yellow foam cowboy hats doesn’t seem to mind.  Nor do the 7,000 other anglers and 2,000 on-lookers among 21,000 holes drilled into Brainerd, Minnesota’s, Gull Lake.

The handful of cowboys has driven 1,000 miles from Wyoming to Minnesota for past seven years to compete in the world’s largest ice-fishing contest.

Winning a snowmobile the second year didn’t hurt, but they insist it’s the warm, playful spirit of those willingly sitting around in brutal temps that keeps them coming back.

“We come for the good-looking girls,” jokes Rich Hepner of Casper, Wyo., knowing full well you can’t tell a bust from a beer gut.  Everyone shuffles around androgynously, thickly bundled head-to-toe. Only eyes or sunglasses peek from the layers.

The idea for the Brainerd Jaycees Ice Fishing Extravaganza was first scrawled on the inside of a beer case 20 years ago.  It has brought in $1.5 million for charities since then.

Participants in the Jan. 23 contest win big, too, with more than $150,000 in prizes, many of which don’t require the biggest catch.  Someone goes home with a new truck. Others earn ATVs, snowmobiles, ice-fishing gear, tents and more.

In many ways, the ice-fishing contest is the winter equivalent of Minnesota’s famed State Fair: big crowds, funny attire, full-blown spectacle.

Anglers show up toting poles, sleds and gear as they trudge down an American flag-draped avenue of ice leading to Hole-in-the-Day Bay.  One group gleefully flies signs identifying themselves as “Happy Hookers.”  A local man, dressed in a mountain man’s fur hat, fishes from the comfort of a cushy La-Z-Boy he hauls from home.

Steinarr Elmerson, a rowdy character who runs the Nordic Inn Medieval Bed and Brew, hawks fur Viking hats with horns. Known by most as The Crazy Viking, he often pops up among Minnesota football fans in full historic attire.

To an outsider, “crazy” could apply to all the participants. Where else do people schlep portable heaters so they don’t have to drink beer slushies?

Like the state fair, though, there’s this infectious we’re-in-this-together spirit.  It’s a chance to collectively laugh at Mother Nature’s frigid efforts–something worth numb toes, icy eyelashes and grins that freeze to your face.

–Photo and text by Lisa Meyers McClintick, Red Editorial Staff

All year long visitors to Nashville head to the Grand Ole Opry House to hear country music staples like Alison Krauss, Carrie Underwood and Trace Adkins perform at the nation’s most famous on-going musical show–until Christmas rolls around. Once Thanksgiving is over, the Grand Ole Opry makes way for the Rockettes.

Smiles on their faces, their legs shooting up into the eye-high kicks they’ve made famous, the Rockettes fly into Nashville each holiday season to perform the Radio City Christmas Spectacular.

Dressed in sparkling Santa costumes and stiffly-starched toy soldier uniforms, the dancers do their part to make Christmas in Music City special. Musical numbers range from the secular to the sacred, from song-and-dance routines with Santa Claus and Nutcracker-inspired numbers to a solemn recounting of the Nativity.

But Nashville overflows with reasons to visit in December, and the Rockettes are just one of them. Next door to the Opry Entertainment Complex the Gaylord Opryland Resort & Convention Center retells “A Charlie Brown Christmas” in ICE! 2 million pounds of richly-colored ice are hand-carved into scenes from the much-loved Peanuts television special–the rehearsal hall practice, Snoopy’s award-winning doghouse decorations and Charlie Brown picking out the perfect Christmas tree. The ice sculptures are preserved in a 9-degree exhibit hall, and entry to the displays includes use of a heavy, Smurf-blue parka.

Gaylord Opryland Resort itself is decorated for the season, its nine acres of lush indoor gardens brightened up with poinsettias, Christmas trees and ornaments as diverse as tiny twinkling lights, gigantic stockings hanging from the atrium ceilings and sassy-looking Santas and elves relaxing alongside palm-covered water fountains.

Nashville’s historical mansions are especially fun at Christmas, when antebellum homes are embellished with holiday colors. Victorian ribbons, garlands and candlesticks adorn Belle Meade Plantation, while Andrew Jackson’s former home, The Hermitage, is decked out with 19th-century trimmings as it would have been when the President lived there.

But if you want the more traditional side of Nashville, you can still find it, Christmas or not. During the holidays the Grand Ole Opry stages its shows temporarily in the Ryman Auditorium, where this country music institution began in 1925. And the standing-room-only, live-music venues of Tootsie’s or Robert’s Western World on Broadway party on whatever the season. It takes more than Christmas to shut down a honky tonk.

To learn more about Nashville, at Christmas or any time of year, visit www.visitmusiccity.com.

–Amy S. Eckert, Red Editorial Staff

Robert Shaw as Captain Quint in the movie “Jaws” has one of the most memorable scenes in cinematic history as he recounts the sinking of the USS Indianapolis during World War II and the deaths of more than 700 U.S. sailors eaten by sharks.

It’s the drama that makes for a good movie, but for Bill Wilson of Kalamazoo Michigan, it’s the stuff of nightmares.

Bill Wilson was 19 years old and a gunner’s mate on the Samuel B. Roberts, a supply ship that accompanied carriers under the command of Admiral Bull Halsey into Manila Bay in October 1944. When the battleships headed north in search of the Japanese fleet, the Samuel B. Roberts and a dozen other ships poorly equipped for battle remained in Manila.

Then, darn it if those Japanese didn’t show up in the Leyte Gulf for the beginning of what would later become the largest battle in the history of naval warfare.

But the Samuel B. Roberts with its two five inch guns, along with the other supply ships, weren’t going down without a fight. In fact, they attacked the Imperial Navy. How’s that for chutzpah?

Bill Wilson remembers the words of his commander: “We’re about to go into battle in which survival is not expected.”

The battle only lasted 90 minutes, but it created enough commotion for the fighter pilots from Admiral Halsey’s carriers to arrive at the scene of the action.  As the Samuel B. Roberts sank, Bill Wilson went off the port side into the water, catching one last glimpse of his best friend who lay mortally wounded on the deck.

For the next 55 hours, he and about 100 other sailors huddled together around rafts filled with wounded, kicking at the blue fin sharks that responded to the smell of blood. And just as Captain Quint’s story goes, sometimes the sharks went away.  Sometimes they didn’t go away.

Bill Wilson was on hand, December 7, 2009, at the dedication of an expanded National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas. About an hour northwest of San Antonio in the Texas Hill Country, Fredericksburg was the home of Admiral Chester Nimitz, Commander of the Pacific Fleet.  Bill Wilson’s story is told here, along with those of thousands of others who sacrificed their youth for a lifetime of nightmare-filled-sleep.
And that’s why you should go to Fredericksburg.  Because Bill Wilson and his crew members didn’t wait for a bigger boat.  Because Bill Wilson and so many others of that generation simply did what they were supposed to do.  Because as the words of philosopher George Santayana, inscribed on the last exhibit in this world-class museum, remind us, “Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

–Text and photo by Diana Lambdin Meyer, Red Editorial Staff

One small step. That’s all I needed to take to start ziplining through the trees, a longtime dream. But my foot didn’t want to move. It probably had something to do with the fact that I’d be stepping off a nice, sold platform 45 feet above the ground and onto . . . nothing.

Come on, I silently argued with my foot. I’ve got harnesses, belts and buckles wound tightly all around me, and I’m securely hooked into the thick, wire rope overhead. We’ll be fine.

But my foot ignored me, remaining stubbornly glued to the platform. And then I spied my daughters, who had already made their first zip, laughing at me from the next platform. That’s all it took to get my foot unglued; I nearly sprang off the platform, and away I sped.

I was zipping on one of the newest lines in the country–the Canopy Zipline at The Wilderness Hotel & Golf Resort in Wisconsin Dells, Wis. We were there in September, when temps were warm, but the zipline will remain open all winter for groups of eight or more.

Zipping in the snow is a stunningly beautiful, not to mention invigorating, experience. Which is probably why winter zipping is increasingly popular.

In neighboring Michigan, another new zipline is opening at Boyne Mountain and Boyne Highlands just in time for the winter ski season. The Zipline Adventure is premiering at both resorts this month, featuring trips down the mountainside at speeds up to 25 miles per hour. If that sounds tame, kick your legs, lean backwards and ride inverted for awhile.

At California’s Heavenly Mountain Resort, the Heavenly Flyer shoots you 3,100 feet down the mountain–supposedly the longest zipline in the lower 48. Catch a glimpse of beautiful Lake Tahoe if you can; as you’re roaring down the 525-foot vertical drop, you’ll likely hit 50 miles per hour. The attraction also features two separate lines side by side, so you can zip with a friend.

Over in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, Alpine Adventures runs two winter zipline tours. Its Treetop Tour, best for beginners, takes riders along six lines suspended up to 60 feet in the air and strung between trees. The last line, “7,” features about 30 feet of slack line at the start to give you the feeling of freefalling before you start zipping forward. The company’s newer Sky Rider Tour, billed as the longest and highest zipline canopy tour on the East Coast, sports five lines that soar 200 feet above numerous valleys. Each line has a twin, so you can race your friends; the longest pair is 1500 feet long.

–Melanie Radzicki McManus, Red Editorial Staff
–Photo courtesy of Boyne Highlands Resort

The undulating layers of fog blanketing the banks of the Nervion River in Bilbao Spain has all of the characteristics of a good horror movie, allowing glimpses of unidentifiable structures, concealing movements, and distorting otherwise undistinguishable sounds.

But there’s nothing to fear in Bilbao Spain, especially the fog.  Indeed, there is a great deal to embrace, explore and celebrate.

You see, the fog is man-made, a part of the outdoor art experience of the Guggenheim Museum, an addition to the city in 1997 that has almost single-handedly resulted in this city turning from dilapidated, economically-challenged ghost town to a energetic, creative European city.

Located on the Bay of Biscay on the northern coast of Spain, Bilbao is just 90 minutes from the French border and a half-day ferry ride from Portsmouth England.  It’s often said that Bilbao is the most British city in Spain, which may be debated.  But as the capital of the Basque region, Bilbao is absent the Moorish and Mediterranean influences of Sevilla, Barcelona, Madrid and other well-known cities of Spain.

Bilboa is considered the Pittsburgh PA of Europe.  For centuries, the economy was dominated by the shipbuilding industry, but as iron ore of the nearby Pyrenees became depleted, the once flourishing shipyards of Bilbao became a vacant, rusted eye sore, much like the decline in steel mills impacted Pittsburgh.

But the Guggenheim has been the basis of a huge cultural renaissance in the city that includes several new art museums and shopping centers, a Santiago Calatrava bridge and airport, and numerous parks and greenways that are the playgrounds for families, creative artists and young professionals.

However, the history and cultural influence of shipbuilding remains in Bilbao.  The Guggenheim itself is shaped like a massive ship, thus the water and fog surrounding the exterior. The nightly waterfire show in front of the museum speaks to the foundries and steel mills that once dominated the city.

The Bilboa Maritime Museum, located on what was once the Euskalduna shipyard, also has a nautical design.  And a rusted out crane in the middle of the river, purposefully left to identify the city’s past, has become one of numerous public sculptures that dot the landscape.

Of course, nearby San Sebastian has always received the greatest attention as a culinary center, but Bilboa has nothing to be ashamed of.  Cuisine is dominated by access to the ocean, earning Bilbao the nickname “Cod Capital of the World.”

Food throughout the Basque country is engaging, featuring root vegetables, chorizo and pork in a variety of pintxos and entrees.  Top it off with the red wines from Rioja in a café on the banks of the Nervion and discover why night time in Bilboa is indeed the right thing.

–Text and Photos by Diana Lambdin Meyer

If you want to see Santa’s workshop, forget the North Pole. Go east.

Tucked into the Erzgebirge (”Ore Mountains”) near Czechoslovakia, the eastern German town of Seiffen shimmers with Christmas spirit. In this wooden toy capital of world, even the street signs are topped with whimsical figurines.

A warm glow spills from more than a dozen shops that pull you in with colorful nutcrackers, angels, snowmen and Santas. You can find the perfect small souvenir or drop $2,000 for a towering, intricately carved candle pyramid.

Germany has always been a beloved holiday destination with outdoor Christmas markets tucked into historic city centers anchored by cathedrals and castles. It’s here in the Erzgebirge, though, that those markets’ most famous ornaments are made.

Thank the miners. They dug out silver and other minerals before turning to handcrafts in the late 1800s. A new industry boomed.  Victorian-era Americans, in particular, clamored for Noah’s Arks and long lines of wooden animals.  Carvers invented “smoking” Santas and snowmen that puff wisps of chocolate-scented incense, as well as Nutcrackers that originally poked fun at the ball-busting authorities.

The most elegant items are the candle arches known as Schwibbogen or the twirling candle pyramids that sit atop tables or rise as high as the ceiling. Both structurally echo the supports used in mining and often feature intricately carved scenes such as the familiar octagonal church perched on the hill overlooking Seiffen.

“Miners had a longing for lights,” explains Wolfgang Gaertner, head of international marketing for the state of Saxony. “That’s why lights played such a huge role.”

Seiffen shines with an extra glow on the night of Dec. 5 when the town’s men and a few boys dress in historic mining uniforms for an annual candlelight procession through cobblestone streets. From late November through December, Seiffen’s Christmas market stands also sizzle up smoked sausages, pass out steaming mugs of spiced red wine, and tempt the many holiday visitors with glazed gingerbread cookies and slices of Stollen, a kinder, gentler fruitcake.

Set aside at least an hour to ogle the mind-boggling exhibits, from immense to miniature, at the Toy Museum of Seiffen.  Super-sized candle pyramids would make a pro basketball player feel small. Matchbox-sized wooden flowers make your eyes ache imagining the intricate carving involved.

Seiffen also has demonstration workshops, where the buzz of sanders blends with the scent of freshly sawn wood and a whiff of glue. You almost expect elves hunched over armies of ornaments lined up on tables.  No one looked even remotely short, but one woman sported festively colored red-and-green hair.

Seiffen’s workshops have kept carving and painting through 200 years of change–including wars and the Wall–to maintain its year-round spirit of Christmas.  It’s a mix of village charm, proud craftsmanship and a ripple of snarky cheer that lingers from Ore Mountain miners.  They knew that at the end of long days in the dark, they could find light.

–Photo and text by Lisa Meyers McClintick, Red Editorial Staff.

So you forgot to buy something for Aunt Edna during your exciting, exotic vacation this year to (fill in the blank).

And now, the holidays are here and Aunt Edna, well, she’s a little hard to buy for, and oh, you should have bought that thingamajig from wherever so at your family gathering, she will smile and believe you as you tell her you were indeed thinking of her during your vacation (NOT).

It’s not too late.

Get on a plane to Indianapolis. Now we’re not suggesting that your Aunt Edna is so senile that you can pass off Indianapolis for Fiji or Timbuktu or wherever you were during your travels. However, Indianapolis is the home of three fabulous stores called Global Gifts, and a gift from here is as authentic, maybe more so, as a souvenir from any part of the world.

Stone carvings from Kenya. Dolls from Guatemala. Woolen scarves from Bolivia. Silk handbags from Nepal.

Unique is an overused word these days, but it is an appropriate adjective to describe Global Gifts, which carries handcrafted items from more than 35 developing, third world countries. Nothing here is mass produced at factory in China, but created individually, by hand, usually by women, carrying on crafts and skills that have defined their culture for centuries.

Intricately woven baskets from Uganda.  Stylish, creative jewelry from India and Ecuador. Delicate ceramics from Vietnam. Christmas ornaments and nativity sets from around the world.

Global Gifts is affiliated with the Fair Trade Federation, which not only guarantees the authenticity of the product for you the consumer, but it also guarantees a reasonable rate paid to the producer of the product. They guarantee there is no child labor, that working conditions are safe and that the environment is cared for.

Although there are a number of retail locations for Fair Trade products in North America, Global Gifts is considered a pioneer of such efforts.  The store first opened on Indianapolis’ northwest side in the mid-1980s. The second location will soon celebrate its fifth anniversary on Indy’s trendy Mass Avenue, a great shopping district for any number of holiday gifts. And there’s a third Global Gifts in Bloomington, the home of the University of Indiana.

Global Gifts is a non-profit store. Some items require an explanation, which the employees easily do, but if you can’t keep it straight in your head, note cards tell the story as well.

So after climbing Machu Pichu, if you weren’t thinking about the holiday gift-giving season, you can still easily purchase gifts from Peru.  Or Mexico. Or Bangladesh. Or Thailand.

Even if you haven’t visited those places, visiting Global Gifts is primer of sorts, just whetting your travel taste buds for far off, more exotic destinations than Indianapolis.

And Aunt Edna will never know the difference.

–Photo and text by Diana Lambdin Meyer, Red Editorial Staff

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.

It’s hard not to hear the words and music of Gordon Lightfoot’s 1976 song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald playing in your head when you visit the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. And however hokey the song may seem when you’re at home, it still feels pretty relevant here in Whitefish Point, in the eastern corner of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the harbor the Fitzgerald’s crewmen hoped to reach on Nov. 10, 1975.

A 15-minute documentary in the museum’s Shipwreck Theater introduces visitors to the story of the 729-foot ore carrier, the Edmund Fitzgerald. The ship boasted of being the largest on the Great Lakes from 1958, when she was built, until 1970. But her size was of no help on her final voyage.

Loaded with some 26,000 tons of taconite ore from Superior, Wisconsin, the Fitzgerald was to travel through the narrow waterway at Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, through the Soo Locks and south to Detroit.

But an early winter storm–the “gales of November” that Lightfoot sings about–sank the Fitzgerald when 30-foot waves caught her just 10 miles from safety at Whitefish Point. The bell recovered from the famous Edmund Fitzgerald was recovered from the wreck in 1995 and is displayed in the museum as a memorial to the 29-man crew that went down with her.

“The Fitz,” as she was nicknamed, is the most famous shipwreck featured at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum, and her bell is its most evocative artifact. But her story is one of dozens told through artifacts and exhibits in the Museum Gallery: the Osborne, a wooden steamer from 1884; the 1907 steamer Cyprus, hauling a load of iron ore; the steamship Lambton, that was delivering lighthouse keeper crews around Lake Superior in 1922.

Conservative estimates say at least 5,000 ships have gone down in the Great Lakes since recorded history. And experts think it’s unlikely that another Edmund Fitzgerald will ever go down, what with GPS, modern weather forecasting and a reduced reliance on Great Lakes cargo freighters. But the Shipwreck Museum makes clear that only time will tell.

For more information, visit the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum.

–Amy S. Eckert, Red Editorial Staff

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” is one of the most memorable movie lines in history. And the movie in which it appeared–1939’s Gone With the Wind–a classic. That’s why millions will be thrilled to know Gone With the Wind (GWTW) will be re-premiering during a 70th anniversary gala Nov. 13 and 14 at the Strand Theatre in Marietta, Georgia, just outside of Atlanta.

Hosted by Robert Osborne of Turner Classic Movies, the celebration features a variety of events, including a Q&A with surviving cast members, a costume ball and, of course, the screening of the movie.

Don’t leave town without checking out the area’s wealth of GWTW attractions. Marietta is home to Scarlett on the Square, a museum largely comprised of a private individual’s GWTW memorabilia. Highlights include foreign-edition movie posters and the ecru silk bengaline gown worn by actress Vivien Leigh when filming Scarlett’s honeymoon scene in New Orleans—the only original costume of Scarlett’s on display to the public.

Over in Jonesboro, the Road to Tara Museum is tucked into an 1867 train depot. Authentic reproductions of many costumes are on display, as are author Margaret Mitchell’s china and a wealth of GWTW LPs, books, dolls and photos.

In Atlanta, the Margaret Mitchell House showcases Mitchell’s apartment, furnished similarly to the way it was when she penned her blockbuster novel there, plus intriguing exhibitions on the movie, such as Tara’s original doorway, opened to perfectly frame an immense portrait of Scarlett.

In the movie, an angry Rhett chucked a glass of whiskey at the portrait. Until recently, you could actually make out the indentation left by the tossed tumbler, but unfortunately a cleaning and re-stretching of the painting erased that little spot of history.

Perhaps my favorite exhibit: a photo of Sr. Melanie, Mitchell’s cousin, who was the basis for her sweet character, Melly. Fascinatingly, Sr. Melanie became a nun because she couldn’t marry her true love and first cousin–Doc Holliday.

–Melanie Radzicki McManus, Red Editorial Staff
–Photo by Melanie Radzicki McManus

You have to climb a lot of stairs to get to the rooftop of the 12th-century cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. And it’s a little scary standing on its slanting granite tiles 79 feet above ground. But the view is incredible. And definitely makes the climb worth it.

The famous cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, is said to be the final resting place of the bones of the famous St. James, and as such is considered the third most important church in Christendom after those in Rome and Jerusalem. For centuries, the faithful have plodded along several major pilgrimage routes just for the chance to worship at this sacred spot.

Today, most folks making the pilgrimage do so for spiritual and adventurous reasons, not Christian or Catholic ones. But their increasing numbers are once again shining a light on the city of Santiago.

Whether you’re a pilgrim or regular visitor, take advantage of the rooftop tour, where you’re treated to riveting views of the historic squares and streets surrounding the cathedral, plus intriguing architectural objects like the Cruz dos Farrapos, or Cross of Rags.

The imposing cross stands sentinel over a rooftop stone font where pilgrims once burned their clothes to signify the discarding of their old life. (Burning the dirty duds they wore for months and even years during their pilgrimage also protected against the spread of various contagious illnesses common among pilgrims–the less-sexy reason for the ritual.)

While Santiago owes its life to its religious roots, there’s certainly more to the city. Food, for one. Santiago is part of Spain’s Galician region, bordered by the Atlantic. These waters provide residents with more than 130 types of fish, including 50-plus varieties of shellfish, meaning menus packed with delicacies like mussels, clams, barnacles and the ubiquitous octopus prepared á feira: sliced, then sprinkled with paprika and salt and topped with olive oil.

And there’s not enough time to even start discussing their wines and cheeses.

In the city’s historic quarter, a maze-like warren of shops and restaurants makes a great way to pass the day. Since the 30,000-student Royal University of Santiago de Compostela is nearby, you’ll find everything from pricey boutiques and fine-dining establishments to student cafes and discount shops here, and, of course, tourist shops selling pilgrimage-themed objects.

When St. James’ July 25th birthday falls on a Sunday, a Holy Year is declared and a variety of additional ceremonies and festivals are held in the city. Since 2010 is a Holy Year–and the next one doesn’t come until 2021–you’d better start practicing your stair climbing.

–Melanie Radzicki McManus, Red Editorial Staff
–Photo by Melanie Radzicki McManus