Exploring Fish Creek, WI

Eagle Tower: Climbing Above the Canopy

I visited Eagle Tower in Peninsula State Park (5-minute drive from the campsite) and lucked into finding the perfect parking spot directly next to the tower. Parking here can be tight, with just a limited number of spaces—including a couple reserved for handicap access. From the base, visitors have two choices to reach the observation deck: a 100-step staircase or an impressive 850-foot ramp.

Eager for a bit of a workout, I opted for the stairs straight up, quickly finding my rhythm as I climbed. Behind me, two young girls energetically counted each step out loud, finally exclaiming "Ninety-nine!" with triumphant excitement as they reached the top shortly after I did.

It was a cloudy day, so the views weren't as spectacular as I'd hoped, but even through the misty haze, I could clearly spot Horseshoe Island resting peacefully offshore. On a clear day, the panoramic vistas from Eagle Tower stretch impressively far—you should be able to see across Green Bay, spotting nearby Ephraim, lush islands dotting the water, sailboats drifting lazily along, and even glimpses of Michigan's Upper Peninsula far in the distance.

The platform experience shifted dramatically during my time up there. At moments, the observation deck emptied completely, offering peaceful solitude; within minutes, it would be bustling, filled with visitors who, despite having made it to the top, hesitated to approach the railings. There was plenty of polite jostling as visitors bumped into each other, exchanging smiles and quiet apologies as they maneuvered carefully around the deck to take in the view or snap a quick selfie.

After soaking in the atmosphere at the top, I decided to descend using the spectacular wooden ramp, an architectural marvel in itself. Gently winding its way down through the treetops, the ramp offers a leisurely stroll that lets you absorb the park's natural beauty at a relaxed pace. Along the route are educational plaques, each highlighting facts about local wildlife, tree species, ecology, and the rich environment surrounding the tower. I paused frequently, absorbing tidbits about the forest ecosystem while enjoying the shaded canopy. I had a chat with a couple kids about the ash tree plaque.

Midway down, I overheard a woman jokingly say to her ten-year-old son, "You could probably survive if you jumped from here." Unable to resist, I smiled and gently offered, "I wouldn't encourage him." She laughed warmly, sharing a knowing grin.

Visiting Eagle Tower is one of those things that almost anyone is going to enjoy. Whether you choose the energetic climb or the leisurely ramp, Eagle Tower is a standout highlight of Peninsula State Park and absolutely worth a visit.

Strolling Fish Creek

I made it into Fish Creek around 11 a.m., eager to explore this charming little town nestled along the edge of Peninsula State Park. At first glance, Fish Creek seems modest in size (population 1000), but the more you wander its streets, the more inviting it becomes. The town unfolds with cozy shops filled with local crafts, galleries showcasing regional art, and restaurants serving everything from freshly caught fish to sweet homemade treats. Scattered throughout are shaded benches and small parks perfect for resting or watching sailboats glide into the marina. And then, of course, there are the tranquil views across Green Bay—distinctly not Lake Superior, as I was politely corrected. There's a warm, welcoming energy here that invites you to slow down and soak it all in.

I found parking very easily off of Main Street. All parking in town is free and without time limits (though no overnight parking or camping). After walking for a while, I stopped at Scenic Tours to book a tour along the peninsula. I signed up for the 1 p.m. Peninsula Park Caves tour which would last 90 minutes. The ticket sales girl highly recommended Blue Horse Beach Café for coffee. She named a few other shops but said the coffee wasn’t as good.

I walked along Main Street for about 20 minutes, popping into shops and checking out what was selling in this tourist haven. I made it to Blue Horse at the end of the shops on Main. It’s raised off the street a bit, giving a better view of the bay from the porch area. A man in his thirties had just ordered drinks and food for the family, and they were joking about “The Dad Tax.” The dad said, “Yeah, there’s a higher than normal tax being charged today.” They both laughed.

I had to ask what the dad tax was, and the cashier explained, "Oh, that's when dads automatically get a bite of whatever their kids are eating, as payment for services rendered—like providing transportation, emotional support, or simply existing." He laughed and added, "Your kids are older, huh? Well, the dad tax definitely still applies; now it's taking the first sip of their beer after you open it for them. Quality control, you know."

The coffee was good, in paper cups, not porcelain. I grabbed a copy of the Peninsula Pulse, a free Door County newspaper / events calendar / advertisements, and sat while I waited for my boat excursion.

Scenic Boat Tours

I had booked the Peninsula Park Caves tour, a scenic boat ride heading north along the coastline towards Ephraim, the next charming town up the peninsula. Boarding began about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, prompting the usual mild chaos as passengers jockeyed for prime seats by the open windows. Some passengers weren't exactly patient or polite, while others struggled noticeably with standing during the short wait to board.

Wanting to avoid the crowded shuffle, I found myself a fold-down bench seat at the rear of the boat. As departure time approached, the guide counted heads and realized we were missing three passengers. Shortly after the scheduled departure, a gentleman approached, explaining apologetically that his wife wasn't feeling well and wouldn't join us. Two more to go. After another five-minute delay, a woman hurried aboard carrying two large bags of clothing. Breathless and a little uncertain, she glanced around for her husband. Moments later, he appeared, hastily checked in with the guide, and promptly asked about the boat's restroom facilities. Upon learning there were none onboard, he quickly exited to use the restroom ashore. The captain, who had already fired up the engines, waited somewhat impatiently. Eventually, our final passenger returned, shuffling back onto the boat to settle into the seat beside me. We finally departed, about 25 minutes behind schedule.

Barely a few minutes out on the water, a sprinkle began, quickly escalating into a steady downpour. Those seated next to the open windows found themselves caught off guard, getting thoroughly drenched by wind-driven rain. Passengers quickly shuffled and squeezed together, shifting to the boat's opposite side in a comedic attempt to escape the deluge. Although visibility was limited, occasional breaks in the rain allowed glimpses of the rugged coastline, adding brief moments of clarity to the otherwise soggy adventure.

Thankfully, our guide, a local who knew the peninsula's history inside and out, kept the mood upbeat and engaging. A natural storyteller and performer, he shared anecdotes of early settler families, local legends, and colorful historical tidbits, interspersed with humorous observations and playful jokes. Despite the gloomy weather, his spirited narration brought warmth and a sense of camaraderie among the passengers, making the best of a challenging, rain-soaked journey.

Back in Fish Creek

I was the first one off the boat and my van was parked 100 feet from the dock. I climbed in, dried off, and changed clothing. The rain had stopped and I ventured back out on the street with just my phone and wallet. My camera gear was drying out in the van. I actually turned the air conditioner on (rare) to hopefully pull some of the moisture out of the van.

I probably hit every shop in town, stopping for gelato at Sara’s Artisan Gelato (quite good and authentic tasting), and paused in a few park areas, testing out wet benches along the way.

The White Gull Inn caught my attention at the end of Main Street towards the water. They had a sign that read "Open Year-Round." I thought, that would be the perfect place to spend a week relaxing off-season with a good book. The town must feel completely different when the tourists have gone back to their daily lives. There’s a beautiful little park and cedar walkway on the other side of the street leading down to the bay. I walked this and took photos with my phone.

Dinner at Barringer's

The van was still parked on Spruce Street. I stopped to look for a good restaurant and found Barringer's on Spruce a few hundred feet away. I looked at the menu outside—oysters and risotto with a glass of red wine. They were completely filled, but I talked my way into a seat outside at the window looking into the bar area. It was a kind of window bar setup. There were eight people with two empty seats splitting them. I asked two women if the seat beside them was free and they said, “Yes, it’s yours.”

It took a while to order. The Argentinian Merlot came pretty quickly. I asked where they get their oysters from. The bartender said, “They come from PEI.” I gave him a thumbs up and ordered six at $4 a piece. It immediately brought back great memories of my time on Prince Edward Island and all the oysters I ate there. These were not my favorite Raspberry Point, but they were excellent.

I had pulled out the computer to look at the photos I took during the trip. I knew the food wouldn’t be out for a little while. As I was looking at the photos, the woman to my left asked about them. I said, “They aren’t very good—it was raining the entire trip.” I could tell she wasn’t very impressed, nor was I. I told her I put my photos up on my blog and showed her some recent shots. She said, “These are good. Do you sell them?” I told her I don’t but have thought about doing that.

My food came, and we continued to chat about various things. She told me I have to go to the EAA AirVenture in Oshkosh. It is running now. This is something I’ve wanted to see for quite a while and it’s only two hours away. I told her this is how my trip evolves and added a note for Friday the 25th.

It began to rain and the outside porch cleared. I found my way to the bar just as a woman was leaving. I said hello to the two men to my right, from Chicago, and we talked about traveling and golf for the next 20 minutes.

It turns out the woman I had been talking with, her friend and husband were going to the Wailin’ Jennys concert — as was I.

The Wailin’ Jennys at Door Community Auditorium

That morning before heading into town, I saw that the Wailin’ Jennys were doing a concert in Fish Creek that night. I took one of the last of three seats available—front balcony row.

I was on the aisle and a couple sat down beside me. They were about my age and had a grandson. She asked where I was from and that started a long and interesting conversation about traveling and the history of this part of Wisconsin. We kept comparing notes about what I had seen, and then she said, “You’ve got to go to the EAA Air Show.” I told her someone had just said that to me an hour before. We continued our discussion during intermission and briefly after the concert.

The venue was perfect for a Wailin’ Jennys concert, and the show was stunning with their harmonized vocals. The Jennys, as they referred to themselves, love coming to Wisconsin and were on their way to Bayfield in two days (I had just come from there).

The venue is just up the street from the entrance to the state park. There was ample free parking. After the concert, I popped into the van, finished a few things on the computer, and waited for most of the cars to leave.

A Quiet Night in Peninsula State Park

There was no one at the entrance to the park and no other cars on the road. It was close to 11 p.m. There was a pull-off on Shore Road and I stopped to listen to the water on the bay and look out over the water to the lights on the other side. I struggled for 30 minutes to get my remote to work on my camera and eventually gave up. The sky was filled with stars when I arrived, but they slowly disappeared with cloud cover as I sat there.

As I got close to the campsite, I approached the dumpsters (with lids) and there were at least 10 large raccoons sitting in the road. They sat there as I slowed to a crawl—some munching on a snack they’d found, others sipping water from the recent downpour, and a couple just staring at me like I was trespassing on their turf. Eventually, they slowly moved to the sides to allow this rogue human to pass, well past curfew time the raccoons had imposed.

I had trouble initially falling asleep, thinking about all the people I had met, the fun town, the great food, and a wonderful concert.