After exploring Washington Island for our second day in May 2021, stopping for a late lunch became a priority. We decided to pop in to an island pub, Karly’s Bar. Da Viking and I always enjoy getting to know locals. Boy, were we in for a memorable meeting!

NO LUNCH

As we entered Karly’s Bar we noticed a family seated at two tables pushed together. They were eating burgers and fries served on butcher paper in red plastic baskets. The aroma tickled my taste buds! At the “U” shaped bar sat two couples conversing. We found seats along the side nearest to the door. “Can we get lunch?” Chuck, Da Viking, asked the gray haired bartender. “Nope.” He turned and got refills for the patrons at the bar. Chuck and I shared a look with a shrug. I leaned over to Chuck and in a quiet tone I wondered in a whisper, “Maybe they only serve meals during a designated time? It’s now around 2:45 or so.”

Drinks Only

The barkeep returned to take our drink order, “What’ll ya have?” He retrieved our drinks. Da Viking had a shot of some stingy, potent beverage. I ordered a Diet Coke with rum, reminding myself to ‘not have too many drinks without any food.’ I also thought, ‘Do I have any granola bars in my backpack?’ I checked, ‘Nope.’ All our food was packed in the Jeep.

We chatted with the couples at the bar. “Is that your rig out there?” one patron inquired. We nodded and introduced ourselves. Sitting in an arc allowed us to share stories and ideas with others. There were conversations about travel and piloting. Both gentlemen were experienced in flying planes: private, commercial and fighter jets. With Da Viking’s newly mastered piloting skills we listened intently to the experienced duo.

Pet Crows

Our conversation turned to pets. “My pet crow would come in here and pick at the crumbs on the floor.” the bartender, Tim chuckled, “He’d hop around then fly out the door.” The locals nodded and smiled as they recalled the scene. “Ya gotta get um when they’re young and raise um up to trust ya.” Tim explained how he’d gotten crows from a nest and trained him since he was a youngster. “They’re real smart. I’ve had a lot of um.”

With a hearty laugh Tim shared about his pet crows riding on the handlebars of his bike. They’d retrieve newspapers. The crows would eat peanuts while sitting on a barstool.

Drinking Dogs

We joined in his laughter and brought up Zoe, the dog ‘bouncer’, at the Middle Bar II, next door. “She sat right at the bar and drank a watered down beer.” I commented. “It was a hoot! She didn’t spill a drop! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Well,” Tim replied with his eyebrows raised for emphasis, “My dog, Buck, was the first to do that. Zoe learned it from him.” There was pride in Tim’s eyes.

The Bowling Alley

There were stories about ‘the bowling alley.’ From what I gathered from the conversation one could go through the double doors (right side of photo) and you’d be brought into the event space. I was hoping we would get a tour, but that didn’t happen. Maybe next time.

Karly’s Bar History

Tim’s father bought Karly’s Bar on November 11, 1945. Tim was raised on Washington Island and graduated from high school in 1963. After working as a mining engineer out west, Tim and his wife moved back to tend the bar.

Rye Whiskey Shots

Tim turned around with a bottle in his hand. “This is my favorite. It’s a rye whiskey.” He nearly grinned. Tim set down three shot glasses on the Formica bar and poured a round for us. As we clinked glasses I was honored to be accepted by Tim. As I downed the shot in one gulp, I waited for the burn. Surprisingly, it was creamy like melted butter and slid down my throat with a smoothness I hadn’t expected. When he poured another round, I was willing. Tim repeatedly refilled our glasses with this amber liquor. I forgot the caution I’d given myself earlier about not indulging in alcohol without food.

“I’ve seen your rig here. It’s noticeable.” Now it was Tim’s turn to ask us questions.

“We’re looking to visit islands in the Great Lakes.” I offered Tim one of our business cards. “What would I do with that?” He scowled. “I don’t get into all that computer stuff.” His eyes widened and he shook his head. I was afraid I’d offended him, but he poured another round.

After the third, or was it the fourth glass. I placed my flattened hand over the cup and shook my head. “No thank you.” I could feel heat rising from somewhere inside. Was it another hot flash or the booze? My lips started buzzing, which is always a sign to settle down. “May I have a glass of water?” Tim complied tilting his head with a smirk.

Area 51

Tim openly shared his opinions and stories. In fact, he said he knows the truth about Area 51. He told us how the test atomic bombs had deformed several staff who had been working near the detonation area. With fear of public outcries at the sight of these workers who had prominent, permanent disfigurements, the government provided these individuals with a secure refuge at Area 51. Families were allowed to visit, but the general population wasn’t permitted access.

A Snack?

As Tim poured another round for Chuck and himself. Both of us were feeling the effects of the alcohol and asked for something to eat. Tim was looking as stable as the moment when we’d walked into Karly’s an hour ago. “Lunch is done.” Tim replied with an I-already-told-you parental tone. “What about some chips?” Chuck gestured toward the small bags of chips clipped to a display at the end of the bar. With a shrug Tim said, “I don’t care.” We gobbled Fritos and potato chips to help soak up the whiskey in our bellies.

The Bill

Tim laid down our bill with a nod. Chuck flipped it over. His eyes grew wide. “It’s only $10.00!?!” he whispered to me. With all the shots, I was expecting to pay at least $50.00.” Chuck pulled out several bills leaving a hefty tip.

Sandwiches at the Campsite

Back at the campsite, we made sandwiches. Cooking over a fire or stove didn’t seem wise after experiencing so many samples of rye whiskey. We popped up the rooftop tent and carefully crawled up the ladder while it was still light outside. I pooled up an extra blanket near my face, just in case the wooziness got the better of me late at night. We slept soundly.

We were so fortunate to have met Tim! He’s hardworking, down to earth islander who tells it like he sees it. Tim’s generosity with his favorite rye whiskey and the time he spent with us was a gift. He’ll always be part of our story. Thanks, Tim!

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Check out the video of our Washington Island caper. Da Viking will bring you right along with us in his crafted stories.