And our last day in Door County:

We started off our morning in Sister Bay, for breakfast, at Al Johnson’s Swedish Restaurant Butik. Besides great food, its claim to fame? The fact that goats hang out on their grass roof. We both ordered the Swedish pancakes. Mine came with a pile of strawberry sauce and a foot-high tower of whipped cream. Delicious? You bet your life.

Then we had to get moving south, slowly, toward home. We stopped at two places first though, first.

The first was Pebble Beach, where Fred and Fuzzy’s is located. The reason I love the beach is it’s secluded, quiet, and has perfect water for swimming: clean and clear. I also love it for its namesake: the pebbles. They’re smooth, like sea glass is after it’s tossed around in the sea for a while. You have to feel them to believe it.

Then we stopped at Orchard Country’s Winery & Market. The shop there had every type of cherry-related food imaginable: jams, salsas, mustards, juices, wines, and more. But what we were really there for, was the cherry-picking.

We grabbed two giant buckets, and headed out to the acres upon acres of cherry trees behind the store. Actually, we didn’t realize just how far the cherry fields extended at first. We started picking right next to the shop, which had been picked over. A farmer, probably laughing at us reaching for stretching to reach the few cherries left at the top of the trees, took pity on us, and drove us in his pick-up to a much more plentiful section. The picking was easy from there. Buckets filled, we checked out, and hit the road.

On the road, south of Door County, we received the news we had extra time to get back. So we thought we’d explore. From the travel books we had, we chose five potential places to stop on the way back: two restaurants and a bakery in Sheboygan, a historical marker just west of Sheboygan, and a pie shop near Holy Hill, the highest point in Wisconsin.

In Sheboygan, we found both the restaurants and the bakery closed. By the time we reached the historical estate, it was nearly closed as well, and the tours had stopped running. In a last vain attempt, we sought out the renowned pie shop our travel book described. GPS failing, we drove up and down the hills surrounding Holy Hill, assuming the shop would be in one of the tiny downtown clusters of shops. It wasn’t; it was actually on the premises of Holy Hill’s church (believe it or not), which was, in fact . . . closed as well.

Starving, we headed home. Although discouraged by our Afternoon of Futile Exploring, we weren’t upset. We’d had a great vacation. And all missed landmarks were to us, were a reason to come back another time.