By Kristy Markus

It was a case of expectation management: my dream of a tropical honeymoon and our financial reality. A delicate, lacy fantasy crushed by a cold, hard fact.

We are newlyweds and new homeowners reeling in a recession, paying off a wedding while taking on a mortgage. Much as I wanted to hop a plane and get a tan, Ted and I knew an exotic vacation wasn’t in the cards. We decided to pass on Pensacola and ixnay Ixtapa.

We’re not the only ones downscaling our travel plans. Traveler’s Joy, an online honeymoon service, polled hundreds of couples getting married this year and found that the economic crisis has compelled 62 percent to spend less on their honeymoons than they originally intended. Seventeen percent took more drastic measures, opting to postpone or cancel their honeymoons.

Ted and I considered that option, but we were determined to forge a compromise, to wed passion and practicality, romance and reason. So we booked a room at Fortune Bay Resort Casino, lured by its winter discounts: standard rooms for just $49 a night, plus $50 of daily gaming credit. It’s an enticing equation for any penny pincher.

The car ride was pleasant. A change of scenery – if even a small distance – has a way of lifting us from our daily worries and broadening our perspective. With every mile north, the residual stress of wedding planning subsided.

In our room, we found a bottle of red wine and chocolates from Canelake’s Old-Fashioned Homemade Candies in Virginia. They were delicious.

Our urban friends had warned us that Tower is in "the middle of nowhere," but we were surprised by how much there was to do.

We cross-country skied along Lake Vermilion, the striped sunshine streaming through the long, lean tree trunks. The crisp air rejuvenated us.

We swam in the pool and rested in the hot tub and sauna.

We took in the bustling casino, winning enough in blackjack to recover our gas expense.

And we toured the award-winning Bois Forte Heritage Center and Cultural Museum, just down the road from our room. It showcased the Native Americans’ quiet spirituality and grit in the face of hardship.

I was struck by a map that illustrated the Band’s 500-year migration from the East Coast to the wild-rice-rich outskirts of Nett Lake. It marked the fulfillment of an ancient vision: food that grew on water. So, too, in our own way, Ted and I have traveled and waited, and we are now standing on the shore of our dream, feasting on its bounty.

That night, we cuddled by the fireplace, toasting to our new marriage. Money may be tight, but we are richly blessed.

We returned well-rested and rosy-cheeked. We had no jetlag, and we hadn’t accrued any colossal credit-card charges. We felt good.

We regaled our friends about our Iron Range adventures. By the end of their visit, they acknowledged the wisdom – and fun – of our alternate honeymoon.

Four of them, cash-conscious young adults like us, are planning to take advantage of Fortune Bay’s Valentine’s Day specials: a steak and crab feast, a prime rib buffet and, most appealing to the ladies, a St. Valentine’s Ball with fine dining and dancing. They jump at a chance to get gussied up. Meanwhile, the guys are fantasizing about the ten $100 cash drawings that will be awarded the night of Feb. 14. Something for everyone.

I’m proud we showed them there is a way to pinch pennies and never feel the squeeze. Explore Minnesota! Sometimes, the hottest romance rests in the coldest place.