When I was a kid, my family cherished our trips Up North to the family cabin. We went as often as we could. I remember sitting in the back seat, watching as the scenery transformed from endless farm fields to towering pine trees in just a few short hours. That shift in the landscape always brought me a deep sense of bliss, as if I were crossing into a world where time slowed down and adventure awaited.
My love for the outdoors was ingrained in me from the beginning. I grew up hunting and fishing with my family, spending endless hours outside, my skin perpetually sun-kissed and weathered from time in the woods and on the water. Four-wheeling, boating, and swimming in lakes were just part of life. Hiking with the dog often led me deeper into the wilderness than I should have gone, making my dad concerned enough that he taught me how to use a compass at a young age. Northern Wisconsin wasn’t just a place we visited; it was a place that shaped me.
As I grew older and gained independence, my trips Up North took on a new layer of excitement. I made it a point to stop in the small towns along the way, exploring their quirky shops and soaking in their Northwoods charm. These places, once just passing landmarks on my childhood journeys, became destinations of their own. The specialty stores stocked with novelty T-shirts featuring bears and walleye, and shelves filled with homemade fudge and old-fashioned candies each added to the magic of my northern experience. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized these businesses weren’t just part of my nostalgic road trips; they were the heartbeat of the communities I would one day call home.
When I was old enough to move out, my first instinct was to head north. I chose to attend college “Up North” and live at our family cabin. Along the way, I met many like-minded people who shared their experiences, what drew them to the North, whether permanently or part-time, and the diverse backgrounds that shaped their perspectives. I cherished these stories, each offering a unique lens on the world.
And then I met Tina — the woman who would become my wife. We met as non-traditional students, loving the college atmosphere and embracing a lifelong love of learning. I was finishing my final year of guiding sea kayak expeditions in the Apostle Islands when Tina came along for the ride. We quickly realized that what we shared was an unfathomable love for the wilderness.
For a few years, we moved around, living in upstate New York while Tina finished her degree and I worked for the New York State Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation. During this time, I realized nonprofit work wasn’t just a job for me, it was the life’s work I wanted to pursue. When the directorship position opened at what was then the Chamber of Commerce in Minocqua, I saw it as more than just a job; I saw it as a calling to serve communities, preserve stories, and help shape a better future. I leapt into that role wholeheartedly, excited to bring that mission to life in a place I already loved.
Minocqua became the answer to a long-held Northwoods dream for both of us. Tina and I weren’t looking for flash or noise; we wanted rhythm and stillness, a life where the pace matched our values. In other places, we’d felt out of sync, like we were always reaching for something that didn’t quite fit. But here, the mornings start slow, with coffee in the backyard under the tall pines, and loons calling in the distance. We found endless waterways to explore, places where we can lose entire afternoons paddling, side by side, moving in quiet tandem with the lake and each other. We found a small-town community that felt like an extension of home, a place where people show up for each other, in times of crisis and moments of joy. It wasn’t just that Minocqua was beautiful, though it is, it’s that it made space for a life rooted in nature, in simplicity, in shared effort and shared celebration.
Now, after more than ten years living in Minocqua and helping to evolve our organization into the Visitors Bureau distinction it has today, I keep discovering new things to love about the place we call home. Tina and I were married on the banks of a Northwoods lake, and today, we share our lives with two dogs and live in the cutest little piece of history, a 1917 one-room schoolhouse converted into a home.
In Minocqua, the Northwoods experience is at everyone’s fingertips. Every type of outdoor recreation and activity is available, and I love nothing more than introducing visitors to their newest outdoor obsession, or new store, or attraction when they step into our visitor center.
I think our region has sometimes gotten an unfair reputation for being unwelcoming, which is hard for me to wrap my head around. While no place is perfect, my experience has shown me that our community is made up of kind, hardworking people who care deeply about the place we call home and the people who visit. I’ve always believed that with an open mind, a cup of coffee, and a good conversation, most misunderstandings can be worked out. In a world that sometimes feels increasingly divided, I hold onto the idea that connection starts with simple moments, welcoming a newcomer, sharing a story, or extending a bit of curiosity instead of judgment. That’s the kind of hospitality I know exists here, and it’s what I strive to foster every day.
Mark Twain said it best: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”
For the queer community, travel is more than just an escape or an adventure; it’s a vital act of self-discovery, visibility, and connection.
For LGBTQ+ travelers, experiencing different cultures, meeting like-minded individuals, and finding spaces where they feel safe and accepted can be life-affirming. Travel allows queer individuals to see that they are not alone, that love and identity exist in infinite forms, and that there are places where they can truly be themselves without fear. At the same time, their presence in new communities helps shift perspectives, demonstrating that diversity is not something to be feared but embraced. Every journey taken is not just a personal
experience; it’s a step toward a more open and accepting world.
Published May 2025 in Our Lives magazine; reprinted with permission.
