The Sound of Silence

Remember when Club Med was called the antidote for civilization? No phones, no TVs, not even a clock in the room. You went to unwind. Now techno blasts out across the beach and at times it’s impossible to order a drink at the bar without getting pulled into a foam party. After a week of vacation, you need to take time off to recover.

Too many times what we need when we travel is a quiet retreat to shake off stress and recharge our batteries. The ultimate expression of that philosophy is Canoe Bay, a charming little collection of cottages and rooms that make up a world-class Relais & Châteaux establishment ninety minutes northeast of the Twin Cities.  

After a long workweek, my husband and I headed out for two nights of absolute nothing. Canoe Bay is committed to privacy and doesn’t even have any road signs, so it was completely necessary to follow the specific directions sent to us. After passing winding rural roads and dirt paths, we turned into the resort and were greeted by a simple, serene waterfall flowing in front of the reception building.

Canoe Bay is meant for couples, but not in a cheesy Sandals kind of way. It’s very romantic and secluded with lots of handholding and whispering—and children and pets are strictly not welcome. There are no in-room phones and cell reception is spotty, inducing immediate ring-tone-free relaxation.

The property once served as a camp and was owned by the Seventh-day Adventist Church of Wisconsin. After the church council built a new facility, the camp was abandoned. Until, that is, Dan (who grew up in the area) and Lisa Dobrowolski bought it and named it Canoe Bay, a moniker found on an old map of the property.

The modest campus has a refined yet rustic feel to it. Cedar cabins sprawl about the hills with roads and paths connecting twenty-one lodgings, which include a main lodge, duplex cottages, and standalone cottages. Frank Lloyd Wright’s Prairie School style is well suited to the surrounding landscape, and the Dobrowolskis commissioned his protégé, John Rattenbury, to design two cabins. The Rattenbury Cottage is dramatic with cathedral ceilings and a cantilevered deck with a view of the lake; the Edgewood, built in 2003, is a stunning 2,100-square-foot cabin with a 1,400-square-foot wraparound porch.

We stayed in Lookout, one of the newest lodgings, which stands tall above the others with great views of the lake. Once we stepped inside, it was clear we weren’t roughing it. A lofty ceiling canopied above a large stone fireplace, a love seat, breakfast nook, and fluffy bed all facing huge picture windows overlooking the lake. The bathroom was gleaming with an oversized natural stone shower and a whirlpool bath. Ice was in the fridge to chill our Champagne, and organic fruit was left out for a snack. Out on our private deck, it was serene with only the sounds of birds and canoe paddles on the lake. We popped in some Stan Getz and Jack Johnson—there’s a TV, CD, and DVD player in every room, plus movies, music, and games in the lobby—and took in the view until dinner.

At night, Canoe Bay becomes incredibly romantic, almost magical. The driveways are lined with lanterns and spiraled white lights hang in the trees. They twinkle out onto the lake, and even the bridges are lit up.

Inside the dining room, it’s a bit like being in a boat with sloping cedar beams. Every table is dressed with fresh flowers and a glass candle floater that casts such a pretty glow we had to purchase one before we left. The dinner menu changes daily, but always emphasizes local ingredients, right down to the herbs from the garden out front. Chef Scott Johnson will chat with foodies about his seasonal fare and even take interested guests out on his shopping excursions at no charge. (Such outings are not regularly scheduled, but guests can inquire ahead of time and get a map with directions as to where ingredients come from.) On our night, we had pork in an apple glaze followed by a berry tart and chocolates served in a tiny canoe.