Life is Like a Box of Chocolates…
“You never know what you’re gonna get…”
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When I open a fresh box of delicious chocolates, I scan the contents for Butter Cream or Truffle or Mint or Toffee or Caramel. If someone has already scammed the popular ones, an easily identifiable, plain old Almond Cluster standby will sufficiently satisfy; I’ll settle for Orange Cream; and I’ll tolerate the Jellies (barely).

But hidden amongst all that sweetness are imposters. Lying in wait. Biding their time. Pretending to be something they’re not. The instant my teeth touch that center filling, my heart sinks. Ptooey. It’s my worst chocolate nightmare.

Everyone has their least favorite…what’s yours?

Cheap Cherry Cordials with their fake and ultra-fermented foulness? Yeecck.
(Fortunately, those mounded tops are a dead giveaway, others are impossible to detect...like…)

Rubbery Rum Raisin sporting a gelatinous gluey-goo center, overpowered with acrid alcohol flavoring? Grross.

Rancid Russian Nougat filled with gummy walnuts and petrified fruit, basically 10-yr-old fruitcake? Blehk.

What if fate directed your hand towards Rum Raisin?
Ugh. One isn’t so bad though. You’ll power through it. Just pick another.
Rum Raisin. Hmmm, that’s weird. Pick another.
Rum Raisin. What the...OK, try the second layer.
Rum Raisin. Is this a joke? Factory mishap? Government conspiracy?

No joke. What if you ended up with an entire box of Rum Raisin? A Five. Pound. Box.

Sometimes, that’s just what life gives us. Whether we like it or not.
There’s nothing you can do now or in the future to transform that box into something more palatable; nothing you could have done differently to avoid getting the box. You can’t return the box via UPS (wouldn’t that be nice); you can’t re-gift the box in a Dirty Santa trade (wouldn’t that be cruel); you can’t hide it under your bed and ignore the box (like your taxes). Taxes and Rum Raisin boxes must be dealt with no matter how much we despise them.

So, what do you do when a loved one is plopped down in the midst of an overwhelming mountain of Rum Raisin?

You drop everything. You come home. And you help them deal with it as best you can.

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And so we did.

We’ve been in Michigan for three months. Intending to return to the boat in mid-January, it’s now well past Valentine’s Day (hence my box-o’-chocolate analogy). We took things day by day, assimilating all the new information, be it the Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

I can’t tell you how many times we thought we were leaving in a couple days, only to cancel and remain for an important appointment or to help with a necessary project or to complete a major purchase. We’ve become fake news perpetuators: ”We’re leaving next week…wait, the week after that… wait, strike that, don’t ask me anymore.” Friends would text us…”You’re STILL there? What’s the deal?”

Well, we’ve been assessing and re-assessing, modifying and fine-tuning our future. During the last two months, we’ve changed our plan daily, sometimes hourly. Captivated by the recent Olympics, I can only describe our closing sequence as a high-flying, halfpipe-snowboarding, 1080-degree, life-altering rotation. We just hope to land on two feet and not face-down in the snow.

And the judge’s scores are in…

1. We are moving back to Michigan. Yup. Land of snow and ice. Who’d a thunk it? We’ve been here so long now we had to buy snow boots. Flip-flops? What’s a flip-flop? You know you’re getting used to the frozen tundra when 35 degrees is a “warm spell”.
2. We are moving back to our hometown. Back to the beginning. Where it all started. It feels really weird. It feels weirdly normal. It feels like the right thing to do.
3. We bought a house. Surprise! Once we determined this piece of the puzzle, finding our property (within a week and only 4 showings) was pure providence. That’s the good news. The bad news is I forgot just what a PITA it is to buy a house. And don’t get me started on unlocking our credit, rising interest rates and dealing with out-of-state-snowbird-sellers, sans printer or cell phones. The house purchase is a whole blog right there.
4. We are shipping Indigo to Lake Huron! Bay City to be exact. On a flat-bed semi-truck. From Mexico. What???!!! We could not bring ourselves to sell her and container ships don’t sail to the Great Lakes (not from Mexico anyway), so truck shipping is the only option. While we’ve done it before from Maryland to Cali, international shipping across the Mexican border adds a whole ‘nother level of anxiety. Fun stuff. Why don’t we sail back to San Diego and ship from there? We’d love to, but we’d want to wait ‘til July for weather purposes and that’s too long of a delay. Plus, since it’s currently out of the water, half the shipping prep work is already done.​ Why don’t we live on the boat in Michigan? Did you actually read #1 above? We’re not that crazy!
5. We are coming out. Of retirement that is. So all you people jealous of us “youngsters” retiring early can feel incredibly smug that we are headed back to the grind later this year. You’re welcome. Living on retirement income in Mexico on a paid-off boat is a piece of cake; but owning a house is a different story. And in Michigan, the heating bill alone is insane!​ What are we doing? That’s TBD. We’re hammering out steps 1-4 first. How many decisions do you expect in one month?

So what’s next?
Now that we have closed on the house (as of today, actually), we are free to leave Michigan to complete the next steps of our crazy plan. Geeze, how much more can there be? Well…

We still need to drive down to Mexico, prep Indigo for shipping (2-3 weeks), get her on a truck, follow her across the border to Tucson, get her on another truck, follow her to our new Michigan marina, get our stuff off the boat and move into the house, drive to Atlanta, rent a moving truck (no, we didn’t get rid of ALL our stuff) and drive it back. Whew.

Then, after living in limbo for a year, we can actually be in our own house, in our own bed. (Well, after we buy a bed.) What a concept. And then, of course, "normal life" will ensue, consumed with initial house projects like painting and flooring and cleaning and fixing and buying furniture we no longer have. And don’t forget about getting Indigo reassembled and back in the water. So maaaybe we’ll be done with all that sometime in July. Or August. Maybe. I can’t promise we’ll be anywhere at any given date for the next several months. Again, one day at a time.

Are you happy?
Yes. We are satisfied. We’ve made the right choice.
Except for the snow. This has been one of the snowiest winters since 1880 and it just keeps coming! We’re going to have to work on loving snow. And ice. And muddy, dirt roads. And potholes - Michigan‘s potholes are worse than Mexico! Not kidding.

Yes, of course we’re sad for our forfeiture of travel freedom. We treasured our atypical nomadic lifestyle. We absolutely loved living on the boat IN the natural world, exploring pristine anchorages & quaint villages. We enjoyed the financial freedom of not owning a house and chasing the bulk of society in a never-ending rat-race. And who really wants a JOB?

But that kind of existence comes at a price. I’m not the first to opine that life on the water is not all cocktails and sunsets. Throw in the stressful sea-faring facet and the trials of living in a foreign country. To a certain extent, we thrived on knowing we could overcome any challenge. But sometimes economics don’t outweigh anxiety. And sometimes, family is more important than fun. This is one of those times.

It’s Never Over, ‘Til It’s Over
Ah, but fear not dear reader, the dream is not lost. Otherwise, why would we suffer the expense and difficulty of transporting Indigo all the way home? No, we’re just taking an extended pit stop. In fact, we are already starting to plan Indigo’s next cruising chapter. Our Mexican adventure may be concluding a bit earlier than expected, but our new Michigan adventure awaits.

Choices and Chocolates
Forrest Gump was right. Life IS like a box of chocolates. You never really know what you’re gonna get. But life is also a series of chocolate choices. We’ve explicitly chosen the ubiquitous Almond Cluster. For now. We know what we’re getting. It’s the right thing to do. But someday, we’ll again go in search of that elusive Butter Cream. We’ve found it before, and we’ll find it again.​

So, you haven’t blogged lately, what's up with that?

Well, let’s see if I can sum it all up…

We made it to San Carlos!
And without incident. Gotta love that. I pull into our boat slip without a scratch. Yay me!

We get the truck out of storage.
Runs great, but smells funny as soon as the air conditioning starts up. After a couple days with no dissipation, Brian investigates. A mouse had made a snug little nest in both the engine and cabin air filters. Awww… NOT cute. Judging from pee & pellet quantities, he’d moved in permanently. Ah, mouse urine, the new car fragrance. Nice. Our furry antagonist also chewed all the surrounding insulation stuffing to bits…tastes like cotton candy maybe? At least he left the electrical wires alone. Fortunately, AutoZone had the replacement filters and we were breathing free in no time.

12 days putting the boat away.
Wash. Wash. Wash. Remove this. Store that. Hard work. Hot sun. Ho hum.  See last year’s post for a detailed blow by blow. It was just like that.  Again.

Haul out day.
Motoring the boat over to the launch ramp, I thought I was gliding in just fine. It didn’t feeeel like I was going fast. Turns out, I misjudged. When docking, a boat’s side should kiss the quay, no more than a polite peck; air-kisses are best. Today, Indigo’s port belly collided with the dock in a lengthy, firm, 1950’s movie smooch, complete with sound effects. Ewwww. Gross. And right in front of everyone. So embarrassing. My mistake led to a nice 2ft long, white scratch. Argg. Expletives ensue. Poor me. 

BUT…That afternoon with the boat on land, I buff out my scratch. Took an hour of elbow grease; but no one will be the wiser. Whew. Don’t tell anyone.

Driving
With the boat put away for another season, we drove and drove and drove. Up to Tucson, veered left to California for a few days, then back across the country through 7 states. Driving is Dull.

Atlanta
3 weeks in Atlanta. Put truck away. Prep van for touring: added 2 solar panels, new solar controller, fixed a stubborn leak in the roof. Fixing stuff is boring. Get to the good part.

Northeast Georgia
4 days with Brian’s dad & wife and their friends camping in northeast GA. Middle of freakin’ nowhere. The campground is an hour away from the nearest town. Not due to proximity, but because one can only drive 10mph… for 7-MILES down a snaking, rutted, gravel road. Lacking 4-wheel-drive, I thought we were going to get stuck in the wilderness for days. But we made it. Primitive sites = no water or electric. But steps away from a babbling brook & fairytale forest, with hardly anyone around, a warm fire, good company and lots of beer. Relaxing. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Eastern Tennessee
Next, we spent 3 weeks and 2500 miles traveling Eastern Tennessee. OK, now you’re talkin’.
Wait, 2500 miles? Is that a typo? No. No it’s not.

From Ducktown in the southeast corner, west to Lynchburg in the south central area, then back east through small villages across the Cumberland Plateau, to the heights of the Smoky Mountains, as far north as Johnson City, back down to Knoxville, and as far west as Gallatin (Nashville outskirts). Our final map looked like a squashed Z. We basically tacked back and forth through TN.  Countless quiet country roads, multiple mountain ascents, oodles of S-curves, minimal highway-time. Here are some highlights…
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• Four days in Chattanooga. Loved this town. We visited the Tennessee Aquarium (best thing we did), Raccoon Mountain Caverns (a low-key, non-touristy cave), Rock City (cool ‘cause I love natural rock formations) & Ruby Falls (go early morning before the insufferable crowds, otherwise don’t go). 
• Factory tour of the Jack Daniel’s Distillery in Lynchburg. Fun tour guides. Well worth it. 5 stars out of 4000 reviews on Trip Advisor can’t be wrong.  
• Explored Falls Mill in Belvidere, a working grist mill with waterwheel and museum filled with antique machinery.  
• Sat IN a waterfall. How cool is that? Inside Fall Creek Falls State Park is Cane Creek Cascades where one can climb all over the rocks and slosh about in sparkling, ankle deep water. So fun! We hiked and viewed more waterfalls at Rock Island Park further north for a total of 9 waterfalls in 3 weeks.
• Camped high in the pristine Smoky Mountains for 4 nights. Lots of mountain driving and hiking.
• Spent a day in touristy, but cute Gatlinburg sipping too many free whiskey shots at Ole Smoky and Sugarland Distilleries…mini-golfed to sober up. Breezed straight through adjacent Pigeon Forge, the ugliest town in TN and possibly biggest tourist trap of all time.
• Visited Davy Crockett’s Birthplace near Greeneville.
• Toured the tiny Cumberland Homestead Museum in Crossville.
• Went for a quiet kayak on Watts Bar Lake.
• Lunched at an amazing restaurant in Gallatin called “Chocolate Covered Strawberry” (‘cause every meal includes them).
• Stopped by Mammoth Cave in Kentucky on our way up north.

Funny story #1 - The Great Escape
On a whim, we stopped at a large park alongside the Ocoee River. Lots of folks hiking, biking, picnicking, sitting in lawn chairs, watching the water. I aimed for the waterline and began climbing around on boulders, as usual. The water level was so low and calm; I could have boulder-hopped all the way across. And I was about ready to try it. Suddenly, the water at my feet started to churn. And rise. Rapidly. What the heck? As I moved toward the bank, a loud horn shrieked incessantly. It took a second for that warning noise to register…

Crap! The damn dam is being let loose! And the dam horn was delayed! I got the heck out of there. That water flow amplified from babbling brook to whitewater wipeout in 30 seconds. SO glad I did NOT attempt a cross-creek boulder-hop. I cannot imagine standing in the center of that idyllic, lazy brook and seeing a wall of whitewater barreling downslope right at me.  Heart attack!

Pretty soon, hordes of whitewater rafters & kayakers begin flying down the newly swollen river. Come to find out, we stumbled upon the Ocoee Whitewater Center - home of the 1996 Olympic whitewater kayaking slalom course. Who knew? Rafting companies proliferate ‘round these parts, ready to take you for a ride… whenever the damn dam cuts loose. Hmmm. Sounds like fun! Maybe next time.

Funny Story #2 – Doppelganger!
So we’re at the Jack Daniel’s Distillery, milling around the gift shop, waiting for our tour. I spot Brian holding a bottle of Jack, contemplating. So I sidle on up behind him, lay my hand on his shoulder and inquire: “Whatcha got there?” He replies without missing a beat: “I’m buying myself a birthday present.” Now, it’s WAYYY past Brian’s birthday. Not to mention, his voice is not right. And in that same second I look up and realize it is NOT Brian. It is Brian’s doppelganger! O.M.G. How embarrassing!

Fortunately, after my flustered apology, the guy brushed off my blunder without a care and resumed buying his present. I snuck a photo just to prove I wasn’t crazy. He wore practically the same red plaid shirt, shorts, ballcap, hair and build. Blame it on the whiskey. Wait, that was BEFORE the tasting!

25 Days and 14 Campgrounds
Over those 3 weeks, we stayed at 14 different campgrounds, a mix of private & State & National Parks. Usually 1-2 nights only. We camped in wilderness forest surrounded by trees, and also enjoyed on-water sites on Douglas Lake, Tim’s Ford Lake, Tellico Lake, Watt’s Bar Lake, the Cumberland River and Toccoa River. Tennessee State Park Campgrounds are all very nice, with level concrete pads & good bathhouses. Some even have internet! Many are on beautiful bodies of water with miles of shoreline. While we only visited Fall Creek Falls State Park for a day because their campground was booked, I’d recommend it above all others for the hiking & waterfall excursions.

Why so much time? And why so much criss-crossing?
Well, we are scouting towns…semi-looking for property, somewhere Brian can build his dream-pole-barn-workshop… eventually, not right this second, but maybe in a few years, when we’re tired of living on the boat and desperately yearn for a real bathroom with running water. We don’t yet know where that perfect location is, but Tennessee is high on our list due to low taxes and central proximity to family, specifically the eastern area for its beautiful topography and mild climate. We’ve never explored TN, always driving straight through on the 75 to Florida or Georgia. So we thought we’d take our time and check it out. We especially liked Chattanooga, Lynchburg, Greeneville, Johnson City, Rogersville and the area near Fall Creek Falls up high on the Cumberland Plateau sort of in the middle of nowhere. Eh…We’ll see.

Michigan
After our Twisty Tennessee Tour we slacked for two months in Michigan visiting my parents, Brian’s parents, our siblings, nieces and nephews. But we never really rested…

Our 8-week Michigan stint included: 10 (count ‘em, ten!) doctor’s visits between the two of us, 2 funerals, 1 awesome Disney-themed-adult-costume-birthday party, a family reunion, a Fowlerville Dawn Patrol Breakfast (local airport fly-in) and a trip to Uncle John’s Cider Mill for cider donuts. Brian sewed some stuff for the boat: 6 fender covers and a new dinghy cover. We spent one fun-filled week with Brian’s sister & family visiting from Wisconsin. We did 3 trips to Grand Haven to visit Grandpa before he passed, and two after. I spent two weeks sorting through old photos to produce a monster 124-slide, 13 minute PowerPoint for his memorial. Subsequent visits to Grand Haven/Muskegon involved the memorial and reconnecting with my Minnesota aunt, uncle & cousins. Busy, busy, busy.

During those couple months we camped 3 days in the Irish Hills of Michigan with my parents, 2 in Grand Haven, 3 in Muskegon. We fixed more leaks in the van, changed out some failing lights due to said leaks and completed a Winnebago recall. Oh, and don’t forget 3 days in Algonac, celebrating 22 crazy, unpredictable and adventure-filled years of marriage. Yee haw!

On Oct 8th we, headed back down to Atlanta by way of Huntsville (visited the Air & Space museum) and Ft. Payne Alabama. Why? Never been there. And I got to see two more waterfalls.

Official Stats:
Overall, we camped in the van for 39 nights, the rest with family. Stayed in 21 different campgrounds. 1 GA, 13 TN, 4 MI, 1 IN, 1 KY, & 2 AL.

Georgia…#2
Back in Atlanta now, we are working on the van, prepping it for storage. Brian made and installed shelves for the bathroom hanging closet to maximize storage. We had a leak under the fridge, pulled up the vinyl floor, cleaned and aired it out. We fixed yet another window leak. F-in’ leaks. So we bit the bullet and purchased a fabric car cover. Hopefully, it will remain dry all winter, cross your fingers.  Despite the leaks, we LOVE our “V-Ger” van. We still believe it was the best option, considering the amount of traveling we tend to do, moving every other day.

Meanwhile, Brian has been helping his Dad with the woodworking business…making wooden kids’ puzzles & savings banks, cutting boards & keepsake boxes for sale at local craft shows. 

It’s good for him… getting in some father-son time, yelling at his dad. Just kidding, Brian has to yell at him because he can’t hear worth crap. So every day for 8 hours, this is what I overhear in the workshop downstairs: the loud drone of sawing & sanding…mixed in with shouting out directions & questions, two or three times each. It’s like living a real-life Progressive Insurance motorcycle commercial…
”We did get an early start, took the kids to soccer practice.” 
"You want me to jump that cactus? Alright.”
“That lady’s awesome!”  
“ I don’t see a possum.”

On the Road Again
The 2nd week of November, we’ll drive cross-country to Tucson once again, hit my favorite Trader Joe’s store and head back to Mexico for another season of fun and adventure!

100 years ago this planet witnessed the birth of the greatest man on earth. My grandfather.

1917
Joe was the son of Polish immigrants, born in Chicago, the year America entered WWI. At the age of 3, his mother died. His father could not care for 6 children alone and sent Joe to an orphanage. After two years, his father remarried and Joe returned. The reunited family moved north to a farm in Grand Haven, Michigan.

Harsh Reality
At the age of 15, Joe’s father died…and his step-mother moved back to Chicago. The kids were forced to quit school and fend for themselves. So he and one brother got a job with a local family, the Thomas’s, who owned a small lumber operation.

Through three years of sweltering summers and frigid Michigan winters, he helped clear 140 acres of timber. 10 hours a day, 6 days a week. (As a teenager!) Payment was room & board, plus $2.00 a week. Next, Joe worked construction, putting up buildings and laying in gravel roads. After living and working with the Thomas’s for years, they became Joe’s new family. At 19, he began dating the boss’s daughter.

Sweethearts
Joe and his childhood sweetheart, Ollie, married in 1938 and successfully raised two boys throughout the course of WWII. He owned a bakery route then bought the Thomas family general store. In 1942, he began working for Continental Motors Company (now known as Teledyne) in Muskegon. During the war, Joe worked seven days a week, feverishly churning out engine cylinders for wartime vehicles and aircraft. Meanwhile, Olive managed the store and the children and obtained her real estate license. After the war, they bought a Christmas tree farm and flipped houses, toiling non-stop at these outside endeavors after-hours, on weekends and foregoing vacations.

The Golden Years
After 32 years of dedication at Continental Motors, Joe retired. In 1979, they moved to Florida but returned to Michigan & Minnesota each summer for extensive visits. For decades. I grew up during these Golden Years, as they traveled via motorhome around the country, living the “snowbird” lifestyle; I wanted to be just like them. Funny how life works out.

Dynamo Do-ers
“Daylight in the Swamps!” I can hear Grandpa cheerily bellowing his wake-up call. Before 60, hard work was the norm. After 60, playing hard became the new normal. Each day brimmed with activity, up at the crack of dawn… go, go, going.

Golf was a given. Grandpa played 9 holes of par-3 golf darn near every day. And up until his 90’s, he WALKED the course. At 96, he won the senior tournament at his retirement community course. In his lifetime, he achieved a whopping 5 holes-in-one. FIVE!

Aside from golf, Grandpa loved fishing, often arising before dawn, out on the water for hours. In their Florida senior community, Grandma & Grandpa swam in the pool by day and played cards with a passion at night. They were shuffleboard champions, square-dancing experts. Their daily calendar overflowed with meetings, classes, tournaments and potlucks. 

Superman
In professional interviews, when asked who I most admired in life, “My Grandpa” was the answer. It was not a cheeseball reply; it was the truth. He was Superman. Not just to me, but to his entire family and the many others who had the gift of knowing him. His easy-going demeanor was such that everyone loved being around him. Inexplicably, we also hated to disappoint him. A man of few words (Grandma was the social butterfly), he was quick to laugh and rare to reprimand. His presence exuded a warm kindness and reassuring calm. Think… Grandpa in The Princess Bride movie. Born to be a doting grandfather, his positive influence on us all goes beyond words.

A Fighter
In youth, he was a fighter…figuratively and literally. Grandpa fought his way through the Great Depression via the back-breaking labor of a lumberjack, making him tough as nails. Consequently, he boxed for a stint in the Golden Gloves. I imagine he relished the competition aspect, but personality-wise, he was more of a fight-squasher than instigator. Think…Roy Rogers. So when friends went out at night, they asked him to go too… no one would mess with them if Wood Choppin’ Joe was around. Judging from early 1940’s photos, his tree-trunk physique and thousand-yard stare probably quelled many a barroom brawl.

A Penny-Pincher
With merely an 8th grade education, my grandfather rose from humble beginnings through hard work, honesty, dependability… and extreme frugality. He wore his favorite red cardigan sweater for probably 40 years; a grey Member’s Only jacket from the 80’s; threadbare, shake-your-head-plaid golf pants circa the Parcheta Dynasty. Success followed, allowing them to spend their Golden Years on family, friends and experiences… not stuff.

Show White & Prince Charming
My grandparents were like Disney characters - perfect in our eyes. They loved each other, like nothing else. Married 67 years, I never heard a raised voice in anger. If Grandma got frustrated, she’d huff and say “Oh, Joe.” Grandpa would emit a gruff “Harumph”. That was the extent of their fight. They never complained. They were always content. Snow White and her unassuming, unruffleable Prince Charming. Bluebirds sang on their shoulders; deer followed them around like pets. Angels on earth.

Perseverance is Key
But life wasn’t always rosy. He lived through two World Wars, the Great Depression, more war, hard times and prosperity. 18 Presidents came and went. He suffered through skin cancer, vision problems, diabetes-related foot pain & numbness, a broken hip and unbearable digestion complications. His beloved passed away of a pervasive stomach tumor 12 years ago. And yet he persevered. Maybe with abundant sadness, but with just as much pluck. “By golly.”

Fond Memories
When they weren’t out seeing the world, come June, Grandma & Grandpa would venture north to Michigan to get out of the Florida heat. For our family, the anticipation of their arrival date was akin to waiting for Christmas or the last day of school. That monstrous motorhome pulling in our driveway transformed us perfectly proper kids into screaming sirens. “They’re here! They’re here!”

After resting at our house for a couple weeks, they’d move two hours away to a favorite campground in Grand Haven where they could reconnect with local long-time friends and relatives. Our frequent visits there involved a flurry of activity… swimming in Lake Michigan, fishing and boating in the local bayous, walking the boardwalk to the lighthouse, attending the Coast Guard Festival, and viewing Grand Haven’s renowned musical fountain light show. After a busy day, we’d sit around the campfire, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows and playing cards for hours. In addition, we always arranged a camping trip together each summer somewhere else in Northern Michigan or the Upper Peninsula. These extended summertime visits, along with Christmas road-trips to Florida every few years, created idyllic childhood memories.

My recollections are scrapbook snippets. I wish I could remember stories and one-liners… it’s more like a movie screen flipping from one scene to the next:

• Playing cards for hours at our dining room table. Euchre, Continental Rum, Hand & Foot. Grandpa and I were partners more often than not. Extremely competitive, he’d correct my strategy in his easygoing, slightly Yooper accent, but never once got flustered if I made a mistake.
• Trips to the pool at their Florida house. Their 55 and older subdivision required an adult escort for all visitors under age 35. It became a running family joke… “I’m 35 now, Grandpa… a real adult! Old enough to go to the pool by myself!”
• Swimming. Always swimming. Pools, lakes, ocean. Grandma in her white swim cap adorned with plastic flowers performing her side stroke; Grandpa floating effortlessly, eyes closed, brown body soaking up the sun. I swear he could simultaneously sleep and swim.
• Wading in the Atlantic Ocean, scouring the sand for cool shells. My seashell-hoarding syndrome was Grandma’s fault.
• Riding in the overhead compartment of their motor home while Grandpa drove. Performing acrobatics on the internal roll bar in the back seat of the Suburban. Before seat belt laws.
• Receiving postcards as they traveled, gifts of a straw doll from the Bahamas, a sombrero from Mexico. Their travel bug became my own.
• Fruit-picking excursions: blueberries in Grand Haven, strawberries in Fowlerville and cherries in Ludington.
• Camping all over Michigan: favorites were Burt Lake, Gogebic, Porcupine Mountain & Ludington.
• Grandpa teaching me how to golf… in vain. I did NOT acquire THAT trait.  “Straighten your arm.” “Swing through.” I tried to wear sandals once; he refused to allow such an appalling faux pas. “You can’t wear sandals golfing!”
• We played our last golf game together at age 97. Though he could no longer achieve his normal distance, that ball still flew straight as an arrow. After that summer, failing balance and diminished strength robbed him of his favorite pastime.
• After a hospital stint in his 90’s, I flew out for a quick visit. He wasn’t too happy about it. He could take care of himself and didn’t need anyone making sure he was OK. Anyway, I spanked him at 2-player Hand and Foot one afternoon, gaining three joker books in the 1st round, a rare, high-scoring occurrence. Then I won the 2nd round resulting in a complete and utter massacre. Supremely annoyed at my colossal score, he refused to continue. But I begged and he relented. Ordinarily, our card-playing competitiveness dictates ‘no quarter’. But for some reason that day, seeing him so disheartened flipped a switch. I could have gone out that final round and won by a landslide. But I let him win. And I never let on.

The Battle for Independence
Fiercely stubborn, Grandpa lived on his own in Florida until just a couple years ago, hell bent on not giving up his independence. It was an excruciating process, coming to the conclusion that he needed help. (I told my dad to remember this battle of wills when I’m the one who has to convince him.) Fortunately, an apartment opened up at an assisted living facility in Muskegon, Michigan. Right next door to his brother…who also happened to be his best friend. What a blessing. With inside help and family nearby, everyone felt better.

Feb. 2017 – The Big 100
In February, we celebrated his 100th birthday. A joyous occasion with family flying in from all over. He initially protested, not wanting to cause a fuss on his behalf; but when the time came, he was all smiles. What a joy to see him so happy, surrounded by friends and family, honoring this accomplishment, this wonderful life. My Uncle asked Grandpa how he managed to live so long. What is the secret? Without missing a beat, he bluntly stated: ”Hard work.”

August 2017
At my next visit in August, Grandpa had just moved to the adjacent nursing home the week prior, independence totally eliminated. He probably should have done it months ago, but no one could tell that man what to do. He eeked out an autonomous life for as long as he could bear.

Now, afraid of falling, the cane he clung to for support has been grudgingly exchanged for a sturdier wheeled-walker. He is interrupted by orderlies every couple hours. Too fatigued to fix his own food and too many pills to track, others now monitor his food, his medicines, his every move.

Sitting in his lounge chair, Grandpa’s bald head droops forward onto a skeletal chest. Exhaustion ebbs from his gaunt visage. It takes an enormous amount of effort just to stand. His body has been failing for the last year. An unfixable ulcer. Everything that goes in comes out, uncontrolled. Who wants to operate on a 100 year old man? The truth is…no one.  “You don’t know what it’s like”, he grumbles to my mom and I one day. I have no answer.

My grandfather does not complain. Not from work, not from pain, not from heartache. Pessimism is a side of him I had never before seen. Now, this very proud man has been reduced to requiring nurses clean his fluid malfunctions. It clearly makes him uncomfortable. Physically, of course… but most of all, I think, mentally. He is self-conscious. Indignity is worse than pain.

Frustrated with his failing strength and debilitating digestion, gloom pervades the room. “All I do is move from the chair to the couch to the bathroom and back again. This isn’t a life.” Certainly not HIS kind of life.

In our conversation, it’s evident he can see the finish line. “Ah, but I have no regrets.” He answers himself matter-of-factly, briefly regaining that essence of perseverance so deeply ingrained. No Grandpa, you should have no regrets.

A week later…
Brian and I, my brother and his wife drive over for a visit. We convince him to play cards… Hand and Foot. Since we were little, playing cards when Grandpa & Grandma were around was a daily activity. And we LOVED it. So to be able to do this with him was a miracle. After thousands of hours over the years, he could play this game in his sleep…and today he practically did. He was merely going through the motions, by rote memory, speaking very little. But he & Andy still won. After an hour, he was exhausted. I fear this will be the last time. But I shake it off. Each time I left him I’d wondered that… and yet he persevered.

After his nap, we just sat and visited. “Remember Grandpa, how we used to go camping at Ludington State Park? And Burt Lake?” He chuckles, eyes brightening. “Oh yeah, all those trips were great! Oh, the fish we caught!”  We talked about the first house he built as a young man, digging the basement himself… with a shovel…using re-purposed cement blocks for walls... hand-scraping plaster off every one. How his wicked step-mother made him sleep out in the barn when her grandchildren visited for the summer. He recalled his daily childhood chore of tending their 5 cows, swimming and lazing on the banks of the Grand River while they grazed. He talked about working as a foreman 7 days a week, 12 hours a day, churning out engine cylinders… without CAD programs. I thought about recording our impromptu interview; but I couldn’t make myself do it. Somehow, it felt an invasion of privacy. I told myself, “Maybe next time…”.

Hospice
A week later, the dreaded word pops up: Hospice. My Uncle prepares for a visit, so we all plan on coming over on Sunday, Sept 10th.
Sept 3rd.  My parents drive over to visit for the day. He wants to go to Pizza Hut, a good sign.
Sept 4th.  He weakens drastically, everything snowballs downhill. His brother urges him to sign hospice papers, but he initially refuses. Not until his two sons arrive. He finally relents.
Sept 5th.  My mom & dad return; my Uncle & Aunt arrive early from out-of-state.

Sept 5th
That same day, it’s two days into our impromptu 22nd anniversary camping trip. We’re at Algonac State Park, steps away from the St. Clair River which adjoins Lake Huron and Lake St. Clair before emptying into Lake Erie. People visit this park primarily to watch the freighters. Campsites are just a road width away from the water where dozens of freighters march down this narrow superhighway daily. Campers sit outside in lawn chairs facing the river, waiting for the behemoths; everyone has a camera.

Facing the river, we can sit on our bunks and watch them pass by through our front windshield. Each time we’d see movement out of our periphery we’d look up to stare. The parade is mesmerizing.

10pm
Mom calls after a hectic day. Hospice has taken over but Grandpa is content now that both his sons had arrived. Too weak to walk, he is bed-ridden. Mom asked the nurse her gut feeling. 1-2 days. No one was prepared for that blunt answer. My brother and I agree to leave early tomorrow to drive across the state. But I can’t sleep. I’m up playing Canasta on my tablet ‘til midnight. I keep losing.

A Freighter Farewell
Sometime after midnight, I hear a low, steady rumble and look up. Outside the small confines of our van, a near full moon shines on windowpane water. The red bow light of a large freighter enters my view through the windshield. I close my tablet and watch, like every other time these past two days. But something about this one was special.

A hulking shadow appears, ghosting down the channel, slow and steady. Its string of pinprick lights glide through the darkness, hovering single file far above the moonlit velvet roiling beneath. After a mesmerizing moment, the aft superstructure emerges into view like an illuminated goliath. An angelic crown of yellow halogen lights pierces down into the dark void.

As I watch the great ship pass, it seems a living, breathing entity. The personification of everything my Grandfather was: A weathered ship run by hard work and perseverance. A vessel of constant kinetic energy. A silent nomad, imparting smiles at each port. A tower of strength. A dependable engine. A no-nonsense, steely exterior. A container of treasured cargo, his heart of gold. An angel in disguise.

And as tears flowed uncontrollably down my cheek, I whispered to myself...

“There he goes…”

Resolute. Unwavering. Persevering.
Moving along an arrow-straight path. On course to a new port.
To be with Grandma once again.

One hour later, my grandfather passed away.

Epilogue
Grandpa persevered just long enough to see his two sons together again, a blessing. While we were a day too late, my last visit was as it should be: playing cards with my brother and talking about the good old days.

Writing this post took forever, heartbreaking every time I started in again. But it was something I felt inordinately compelled to do...my own paper eulogy to honor his memory, since I could not bear to speak them aloud at his memorial.  

And my final farewell via freighter? No poetic license taken…I truly did say those words and felt his subtle presence in that moment saying goodbye. Active imagination? Maybe. Don’t care. It is something I’ll never forget.
​
Thanks for stopping by on your way home, Grandpa. 

Where can you walk amongst wenches & wizards, lords & ladies, pirates & peasants? Engage in a real-life Dungeons & Dragons atmosphere? The Michigan Renaissance Festival! It’s like a tiny Disneyland for lovers of the medieval age and fantasy characters of all kinds.

The Michigan Renaissance Festival in Holly, Michigan is a non-stop visual extravaganza…a head-swiveling, eye-popping, show-stopping, people-pageant. Since its beginnings circa 1979, the Festival has grown to over 250,000 visitors each year. This 17-acre renaissance replica village is replete with craftsman shops, imitation castles, crowded pubs, entertainment stages and a gargantuan number of gussied-up villagers. On a rainy weekend like today, it feels even more Renaissancy as we tip-toed around the muddy “town” streets, aiming for strewn straw, just as fair maidens did back in the day. Who amongst you wilt gallantly lay down thy cape for me to walk across that puddle... Anyone? Anyone? Nay.

Themed Weekends
From August to the first weekend in October, the festivities are sustained for 7 consecutive weekends. Themes accompany each weekend ranging from “Highland Fling” (with Scottish Games, pipers and legions of kilt-wearers)…to “Royal Pet and AleFest” (drink and be merry alongside your furry friend…preferably costumed in 16th century doggy-duds). The day we attended was “Wonders of the World” weekend, noted for its Steampunk Invasion cocktail party and costume contest reflecting gadgetry, gears and goggles of the futuristic Victorian era fantasy genre.

So, what’s so cool about this RenFest? Well…

The Shopping:
For the Renaissance enthusiast, it’s a dream. Where else can you find this kind of stuff all in one place: custom fitted elf ears (yup, not kidding); Renaissance costumes (kilts, capes, hoop skirts & poufy shirts-like Seinfeld’s “Puffy Shirt” episode); unique potions (herbal extracts); fairy gardens; swashbuckling gear (swords and staffs, pirate outfits and armor.) But you can find unique Christmas gifts too: local honey, artisan teas, carved wooden & stone beer steins, interesting incense holders, handmade leather goods, rare stones and crystals. Got one of those hard-to-buy-for persons on your list? RenFest can help. Who doesn’t want a poufy shirt for Christmas?

The Entertainment:
Of course, you got your requisite jousting tournaments and your medieval castle dinners. In addition, 17 themed stages showcase a variety of performances: lilting and mournful Gaelic music, rock bag-pipers (so cool!), raunchy comedians, peculiar feats of strength (like balancing a wooden bench on your nose – hmmm, reminds me of Mexico) or feats of folly (like flame-throwing). Filtered throughout, you got your Taro card readers, palm readers, metalwork demonstrators, young maidens dancing around the maypole, roving musicians and bawdy bards. There’s even a daily Royal procession where us commoners can get a glimpse of the Queen and her court, along with hundreds of other costumed villagers flaunting their duds.

The Costumes:
Attendees are encouraged to dress up in their finest fantasy frocks. This is actually the best part, because at least half of attendees are in costume, and most are incredibly dressed to the nines. Wizards in flowing robes, buxom wenches in tight corsets (breast reduction?... no, breath-reduction), dainty winged faeries, elves with those custom fitted ears, fancy schmancy noblemen, Friar Tucks, flower-haired fair maidens, armor-bedazzled knights of the realm, sword-sporting Musketeers, cutlass-bearing buccaneers, badly singing bards, wandering minstrels, kilted Scottish knaves, drunken Irishmen…you name it…they all gather together in this spot to have fun being someone else for a day. Think Game of Thrones meets Lord of the Rings. (Where’s my John Snow?)

Some outfits seem a little incongruous…like fat belly-dancers (nobody wants to see that) or Deadpool (I mean, this isn’t ComiCon); others just downright don’t make sense. I saw one disaster of a homemade red butterfly/bee costume; and another guy was only half-dressed wearing a kilt, tennis shoes and plain red t-shirt…total costume slacker. But for the most part, these folks go ALL OUT. And to go all out ain’t cheap. A lace-up bodice alone can go for $200, a red riding hood cape $120, wooden staff $80-$120…it all depends on how authentic you want to look.

While I loved some of the over-the-top costumes, one wraithlike princess in ghost-white makeup with black haunting eyes and a flowing white dress caught my eye as she mysteriously stalked about town…really eerie and movie-worthy. My second fav was Gandolf. Now, you’d think everyone would want to be Gandolf, but I only saw one. Because this guy IS Gandolf… with his stately presence, deliberate stride and thousand yard stare. Anyone who tried to top THIS Gandolf impersonation would fail miserably (and probably be struck down by lightning… or orcs).

The Food:
Come for the costumes and people-watching, but stay for the food. Get here early to try a Scotch Egg for breakfast – a hard-boiled egg coated in sausage and breading then deep fried. OMG this is the best thing ever. Of course there are donuts and cider, soup in a bread bowl, hot spiced walnuts, chocolate covered bacon (‘cause bacon and chocolate solve world crises), and of course, giant smoked turkey legs. Because where else can you get a smoked turkey leg? Plus, there’s beer tasting and mead tasting and wine tasting, all three of which promote general happiness and well-being.

Those Frikin’ Pickle People:
Our first encounter inside the castle walls was with The Pickle Man. Hawking obscenely large pickles on a stick, The Pickle Man managed to bleat out the word “pickle” in such a booming voice, enunciating the PICK so sharply, it scared the bejesus out of me every time. “Piiiiiickle!... PICKle!”  These pickle vendors have their wiles, often making naughty or snarky references to unsuspecting passersby. “Those elf ears are UUUGLY”.

At the other end of the festival, The Pickle Woman lies in wait. She must have overheard one of us saying the name Josh in conversation while passing by. Not skipping a beat, PickleWoman shouted out “Hey Josh!” and hugged him like they were best friends, subsequently proceeding to place a pickle into the hands of his wife. “She wants a pickle, Josh!” OK, you pulled a fast one, very funny… “What, she took it!” He good-naturedly pays for the pickle. Funny gag, right? I take a picture of the incident and in doing so PickleWoman turns and says “Hey, look at your mom!!” Mom? WTF???!!! My eyes go wide and my face turns beet red, mad as hell. Seriously? She sees my horrified face and backpedals: “What, people have kids young these days.” Yeah, I would have been 16. It’s just one more reminder I am getting old. I even put on makeup today and everything!  Ugh…depressing. PickleWoman, NO MORE pickles from you!

An Entertaining Day of Escapism, then Back to the Real World:
Aside from The Pickle Incident, escaping the distressed world we live in for an imaginary realm, even for just one day was a nice reprieve (never mind that life was much worse back in medieval times!) But it is time to get back to the real world. We are headed down to the boat right now to survey the fallout of Hurricane Newton in San Carlos, Mexico and to start getting Indigo shipshape for a 3rd season of cruising!

The Sunrise Side
After we split up from my parents, Brian and I drove back through Mackinaw City, crossing to the Lake Huron side of the mitten. The “Sunrise” side. You see, Lake Michigan, being on the western shore, gets the sunsets… and all the money. Those who live on Lake Huron (on the eastern shore) see the sunrises over the lake. In other words: Sunsets + sand = tourism; Sunrise + trees = normal. But that’s kind of WHY it’s cool here on the sunrise side. It’s frozen in time. The towns are more home-towny, a little run down but still plugging away; the trees are a little more scrabbly, the beaches more wild & rocky, the shoreline marshy in many areas (bad for swimming, great for kayaking); driving down the back roads you see… just… a lot of trees, and not many homes and zero traffic. You get the feeling this is how it was up here 100 years ago. You FEEL really far away from EVERYTHING.

Ocqueoc Falls
We spent the night at the 14-site, state forest campground next to Ocqueoc Falls (Ok-we-ok), the only waterfall in lower Michigan. This spot is in the middle of pretty much nowhere, miles from any town. So we were surprised to find a full parking lot, with an overwhelming number of families picnicking and swimming in the river. A series of shallow falls with a rocky, walkable river is begging to be frolicked in by kids and adults alike. We spotted locals lounging in lawn chairs set directly in the shallow pools. A great way to cool off in the summer heat!

Alpena
We spent a rainy day just messing about in the big town of Alpena (pop. over 10k, the largest town in the area). We watched a movie at the local theater, went to the brand new Meijer store (woohoo!), sampled a local coffeehouse, perused a musty antique store and had ice cream at Culver’s. Alpena is mainly an industrial town: cement is big business here, as is limestone (one of the largest quarries in the world). So we were surprised to find a college, a thriving downtown and a busy business district - pretty much everything you need is right here. Plus, Alpena is set on Thunder Bay, its marshy wetlands threaded with acres of water trails, ideal for kayaking. Except it’s raining. Maybe next time.

Thunder Bay Marine Sanctuary
Our drizzly day was a perfect time to visit the Thunder Bay Marine Sanctuary in Alpena. NOAA and the State of Michigan jointly operate this unique sanctuary whose purview combines salvage and display of local marine artifacts in a museum, as well as in-water preservation of the amazing number of shipwrecks in Thunder Bay.

Also known as “Shipwreck Alley”, this 4300-sq-mile area of Lake Huron, now an underwater preserve, was a standard route for freighters and sailing ships plying the Great Lakes. Over 200 ships have foundered in this bay, notorious for severe storms and rocky shoals, many of which are lying in such shallow waters as to be accessible by kayakers, divers and snorkelers. The museum offers glass-bottom-boat tours of several shipwrecks close to shore. This would have been a cool side trip, but the boats weren’t operating that day - too yucky outside. You don’t want your shipwreck tour to become a shipwreck itself!

Museum
The museum displays hundreds of interesting artifacts. My favorite were the ships logs detailing things like watch changes, ship speeds, storm conditions, one even had a cross-section sketch of the freighter hold and its contents: trade goods like iron ore, fish, copper, bricks. We learned about typical maritime shipping lanes through the Erie Canal into the Great Lakes; Brian operated a digital, simulated underwater rover; we read about the various types of schooners and brigs up to modern day freighters and why they foundered… storms, groundings, engine fires, ice, fog, even head on collisions with other boats. Back then, it was not uncommon for shipping barons to force the sail of boats into November, the notoriously worst weather month of the year here, to get one last shipment in before the lakes are overwhelmed with ice. Lives lost unnecessarily as a result.

That Damn Erie Canal
On a lighter note, the least desirable thing about this museum is their music. In one section, the repeated playing of old Erie Canal song, known as “Low Bridge” covered by (I think) Bruce Springsteen, was… (I’ll try to be nice here) excessive. OK, I wanted to pull my hair out. This very short song was repeated over the overly loud speakers, again and again and again… back-to-back. Maybe they don’t WANT you to stay in this section and read everything because I could barely concentrate due to Bruce’s broken record. I couldn’t get that damn song out of my head for DAYS after we left:
I've got an old mule and her name is Sal, Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
She's a good old worker and a good old pal, Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal…
Low bridge, everybody down
Low bridge cause we're coming to a town…
And now YOU have it in YOUR head.  J You can hate me later.

To be honest, part of my irritation was attributed to a set of very obnoxious grandparents guiding their obviously uncaring grandchild through our same section. Grandma loudly proclaimed her interest at each display trying in vain to entice the kid, “Oooh Johnny, look at this cool ship replica”. Then she would read the text to him. At full volume. ‘Cause Johnny wasn’t right next to her looking at the ship;  Johnny was running all over the tight corridor, completely distracted and not listening anyway. Seriously Grandma? Anyway, except for Grandma (hopefully she’s not a regular) and Bruce (unfortunately, he IS), for those interested in maritime history, this museum is a must-see.

Oscoda
The Au Sable River runs nearly 140 miles across the upper portion of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula, dispersing into Lake Huron at the small town of Oscoda. Due to its sandy bottom and easily navigable waters, the Au Sable is an ideal canoeing and kayaking river. In fact, we’d just missed the yearly Au Sable River Canoe Marathon. Running 120 miles of this river, pro canoeists paddle throughout the night and into the following day. Sounds fun!

River Running
We decided on a half-day canoe trip from Oscoda Canoe Rental, gliding along this beautiful river under threat of thunderstorm which thankfully never transpired. The current was just strong enough to do most of the work - we really only needed to steer. The first half of our 4-hour trip meandered slowly through the undeveloped Manistee National Forest. No houses, no people…just us and the clear, clean water and the wild woods. Perfect. Then we got to the second half.

Drunken Tubers
As we rounded a corner, we heard people (ugh) and knew it must be OUR halfway point because suddenly dozens of tubers and canoers and kayakers were putting in their floatation devices for their 2-hour tour. From here on out it was summer mayhem as we were accompanied by drunken tubers and shrieking teens. One troupe of giggling, teenage cheerleaders traveling in over 20 canoes stopped at a sandy beach to swim and splash and squeal, performing cheerleading flips & playing chicken on each other shoulders in the water. Ummm, yeah, it was quite the spectacle.

​Another group’s member was drunkenly singing that “Hole in the Bottom of the Sea” song. You know the one: “Theeeeere's aaaaaa….wart on the frog, on the bump on the log, in the hole at the bottom of the seaaaaaa.” Mr. Opera was actually pretty funny the first few verses…singing with a deep vibrato, conducting crazily with his arms, trying unsuccessfully to coax his drunk friends into joining him. Eventually, after WAY too many verses, well, it just wasn’t funny anymore. Come on buddy, move along…

Lumberman’s Monument
Just 20 miles west of Oscoda, is an interesting memorial to the under-appreciated Lumberjack. Michigan led the lumber industry in the late 1800’s. And the wide Au Sable River was used as a watery highway to float millions of pine logs to Lake Huron for processing and ship transport. This Federal park honors the men who plied this river, cutting trees, shaving branches, rolling them from a clifftop down into the water, poling them down river, breaking up log jams and delivering the product to sawmills. Educational signs in the park describe the grueling work and living conditions. I talked about trees earlier…upper Michigan has no shortage of trees. Now. But what I didn’t know… most of those trees are new, 60-90 years old. The harvest of millions of pine trees, fires and flooding devastated the tree population in the late 1800’s. But during the Depression, the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) made a gargantuan effort to replenish the forest, planting over a HALF A BILLION pine trees!

Tawas City
This time we stayed at Tawas State Park. With one calmer, bayside beach in Tawas Bay and a second, wider beach on Lake Huron, plus another lighthouse on site protecting the peninsula, this was a busy, yet pleasant campground. The beaches are sandy here, as opposed to rockier farther north. So sandy in fact, the Tawas Point lighthouse had to be replaced due to shifting peninsula sands, closing the original off from Lake Huron an entire mile from shore in less than 30 years, rendering it useless.

After a delicious breakfast at the Whitetail Café, a local diner in downtown East Tawas, we walked out to the marina. Of course. I think we’ve walked the marinas of darn near every town along the entire northern coast. Ludington, Manistee, Leland, Northport, Suttons Bay, Charlevoix, Petoskey, Cheboygan, Rogers City and now Tawas. Are we weird or what?

Pinconning. Cheese. Please.
Next we stopped in Pinconning for cheese. Duh. Pinconning is a town AND a type of cheese. These are several cheeseries here, so when you go through Pinconning, it’s a like a requirement to buy Pinconning cheese, or you get fined, or something. I don’t know, but that’s what I told Brian and he seemed to buy it. Or maybe he wasn’t listening. Either way, I win. Cheese for me.

Also in Pinconning is the Northwoods Wholesale Outlet. Basically, this is like going to Bass Pro Shop… except it’s bargain-basement-time. Housed in a cluttered warehouse, this place has great discount prices for camping, boating, hiking, fishing and hunting gear. It’s so big, we strolled around for over an hour and didn’t go down every aisle. From kayaks to deer blinds to fishing gear to cheap jeans to RV accessories to grilling tools, this bargain outdoorsman extravaganza has it all.

Bay City
We really got our money’s worth out of that $11 Michigan State Park sticker. Bay City State Park is the 14th Michigan State Park that we have either stayed at or visited (lunched, hiked or just drove through to check it out) in the last 3 weeks. Whew. Bay City State Park is an overlooked campground situated on Lake Huron and only a few miles from the city. We did not make a reservation. So when we arrived, I asked for the list of open sites so we could go in and take our pick. She handed me a list of over 100 open sites! Really? It’s prime camping season and all the other State Campgrounds are nearly full, if not fully full. What’s the deal here? The sites are big, flat, not too buggy, and the bathrooms were the cleanest we’d ever seen! Close to town, yet still secluded, it was within walking distance from the beach and hiking trails with the most wildlife I’d seen all summer. Go here.

USS Edson
One of the few things to do in Bay City is visit the USS Edson, a Vietnam-era Naval destroyer. Launched in 1958, it is one of only a few Navy ships named after a U.S. Marine. Can I have a Woot! Woot! The cool thing about this 418ft-long, 45ft-beamed, 22ft-drafted destroyer is that the depths are open for inspection. We rooted around in the bowels of the boat for 2 hours, traipsing on metal catwalks, poking around the steam turbines, torpedo bays, crews quarters and top secret comms room so old school they had typewriters! On deck, we saw the big gun turrets, mess hall, captain’s quarters, the darkened electronics room and control bridge. After our visit, we talked with the guy responsible for this floating treasure. Working long hours, he keeps this museum open & coordinates volunteers to upkeep the ever-deteriorating ship, relentlessly attacked by the elements. If you get a chance, please go support this piece of history.

The End of the Road
From here, we ended our trip as we began, by visiting family members. Another ½ hour south is Saginaw, where we stayed with my relatives. We had a very nice evening reconnecting and seeing some of the sights in nearby Midland. At this point, we’d been travelling for 3 weeks were pretty much tired. While we were extremely happy with our van, V-Ger, and its voyaging capabilities, we looked forward to vegging out. Our job for the next week was to babysit my niece-cats. Yep, that’s right, we were charged with housesitting (but mainly cat-sitting) for my brother and his wife while they went on vacation. Excited to pretend we lived in a real house by ourselves… with reliable internet (and Playstation for Brian)… for a whole week? You betcha!

Interlochen
We stayed 2 nights at Interlochen State Park, situated between two sandy inland lakes and centrally located about a ½ hour south of Traverse City. But in the wider world, Interlochen is known as a musical mecca. Across the street within walking distance from our park, is Interlochen Center for the Arts. THIS is where the brilliant children go to master their craft.

Interlochen Center for the Arts
Each summer, over 2500 students flock to Interlochen summer camps. These talented teenagers come from all over the nation, and even the world, to stay and play… literally. Mastering musical instruments or crooning choral medleys is just scratching the surface. There are also programs in dance, media & visual arts, writing, theater performance & production, even motion picture arts.

In teaching fine arts, performances must follow. So Interlochen hosts hundreds of concerts and events each year. Take your pick from choir concerts, symphony bands, film screenings, dance troupes, plays, jazz ensembles, individual recitals, screenplay readings and art exhibits. While the majority showcases students and faculty, some are professional concerts or plays (The New York Philharmonic is an example), and many are free to the public.

It’s Summer Camp!
Lucky for us, this is Summer Camp Season! We walked over to the spacious campus and watched the sea of giggling teens in their ubiquitous uniforms, light blue tops/dark blue bottoms (here, knickers are still in vogue), toting black instrument cases from rustic stone cabins to vast, outdoor rehearsal halls. The kids were just finishing up a multi-week musical camp. It was the last day and performances were going on in every venue. We watched a symphony rehearsal for a while, then found a recital for kid composers. We witnessed about 20 very different musical pieces; some were solos, some ensembles of 3-5, incorporating piano, string, wind and brass instruments. The cool thing is that these complex pieces were performed by AND composed by 16-17-yr-olds! Amazing. We then meandered on over to another venue where we found an excellent jazz ensemble playing the music of Duke Ellington. Overall, we were impressed by not only the talent of these kids, but their studious demeanor. With the opportunity to attend such a prestigious camp, you’d better be willing to put in the effort. Maybe there’s hope for the world after all!

Traverse City
We skipped downtown due to another crazy farmers market traffic jam and headed up the skinny Old Mission Peninsula to see the Mission Point Lighthouse. After lunch, we wound our way back to a… mall? Who cares? Well, this is a…unique…mall. Yes, this massive former mental institution had closed and deteriorated over time, but some guy had a bright idea to preserve the imposing structure and turn it into retail shops, small business studios and senior apartments – splendid! Now known as The Village at Grand Traverse Commons (bit too long a name don’t you think?) the complex consists of several buildings and a large green space to host festivals and concerts. Tidy, upscale shops line its warm, wine-cellary, brick-walled basement. Interspersed are old photos depicting the hospital’s interesting history. But the first floor still retains that clinical feeling with stark tile and double-wide swing doors, plus the dark stairwells are a liiiittle creepy. But it’s a good start to reviving this historic, one-of-a-kind structure. Worth a stop to support the preservation efforts.

Cherries. It’s what’s for dinner.
And it’s what this entire area is known for, Traverse City being the home of the Cherry Festival which attracts half a million visitors who eat massive loads of the delicious red goodness. So I have been consuming cherries like it’s going out of style… stopping at roadside stands, chopping them into salads, buying cherry goodies at local bakeries and…then there’s cherry pie everywhere!

Friske
Enter Friske Orchards just outside the village of Charlevoix. As they say, they’re “not your average fruit stand”. No they are not. They produce the BEST. CHERRY. PIE. EVER. We stopped here because they participate in Harvest Host, a national network of farms & wineries that offer free one-night stays in return for an on-your-honor purchase of their wares. (You must be completely self-sufficient -- no electric hookups, water or restrooms.) Since we are members, we decided to try it and had our best overnight stay of the trip. We parked the van out back near the apple orchard and spent a quiet evening in a field completely by ourselves. Nice.

In return for this spot to park, we bought 2 apple fritters, a bag of fresh cherries, a pint of blueberries and a ½ cherry pie. Why ½? Well, it wasn’t cheap. And I was like, why do we need a whole pie, we’ll just eat it. Right? You know what I’m saying. But after our first bite, I was seriously contemplating throwing open the door and running back to the store before they closed for the night. OMG it was literally the best pie we have ever eaten. But alas, I restrained myself, for our health’s sake and my pocketbook (a whole pie was $22.) Big mistake. Big. Huge! I regret not snatching up that 2nd pie. Every. Day.

Charlevoix
OK, onto Charlevoix which I think is the cutest town we’ve visited thus far. After lunch downtown, we watched the boats line up along the channel waiting for the drawbridge to open, allowing them all into Lake Charlevoix. Whew, I would NOT want to have a boat here. These guys were practically playing bumper cars waiting in a skinny canal, working to remain in the same precarious position with the wind whipping up, choppy waves barreling down the waterway, pushing them ever closer to the closed bridge. Yikes.

Mushroom Houses
Charlevoix is also the home of the mushroom houses. What’s a mushroom house? Built by architect Earl Young, these homes look like they were specifically made for giant hobbits, utilizing large boulders and topped with undulating cedar shake roofs. My photo is not that great, so look online for better pics. I wish we could have sneaked a peek inside, the use of gigantic fieldstone is supposed to be amazing.

Burt Lake
Lunch stop at Burt Lake State Park. For years I’d talked this place up as nirvana, wanting to show Brian where as a kid we’d regularly go camping with my parents and grandparents. I remember the camp sites right up against the water, puttering around in grandpa’s little aluminum boat, swimming in the sandy shallow lake and playing on the beach all day. Good times.
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An Old Friend
To my surprise though, as I walked up to the beach, I recognized an old, familiar friend. The vintage aluminum playground slide. Oh my gosh! I remember this! It HAS to be the same one! Those sturdy, cast iron steps. Those handrails made of what looks like plumbing pipe, worn smooth from thousands of little hands shimmying to the top. The sliding sheet metal is now shiny silver from so many sandy little bums gleefully skimming down her slick surface. Still standing after all these many, many years (and no I don’t want to count them). I’ve slipped down this slide hundreds of times. SO, of course, I HAD to go for a ride…one more time. But as I climbed to the top, unexpected tears flowed. I paused a minute, with emotional reverence for a pretty awesome childhood and remembering my grandma who used to watch me on this very slide. Here’s to you grandma. Whooooo!

Mackinaw City
This was our mid-trip rest-stop. We met my parents for a little family camping at Wilderness State Park located on the western tip of the mitten’s middle finger. Just 7 miles from Mackinaw City, this park has great access to the Mackinaw Bridge, lighthouses, Lake Michigan and Mackinaw Island. For the nature-lover, it’s an amazing boating, swimming, hiking and rock hounding destination. Since we’d been to Mackinaw several times, we laid low these four days. But we did venture into town one day in search of the popular & delicious treats of pasties & fudge, as well as my one souvenir t-shirt of the trip. (Where am I gonna put more? I live in a VAN people.) On other days, we visited the McGulpin Point Lighthouse with a view of the Mackinaw Bridge, hiked for miles through peaceful pine forest and searched for Petoskey stone fossils in Lake Michigan for hours.

Dark Sky
On our last day we drove nearby to the Headlands International Dark Sky Park. Situated along a wild and rocky section of Lake Michigan shoreline, this unique park was built specifically for stargazing. Devoid of people and therefore light pollution, it’s the perfect place to view the Northern Lights, Milky Way and meteor showers. The park is still under construction, hard at work on an events center featuring an observation telescope. So the only way to view the sky here, for now, is to walk a 1-mile trail through thick forest to the Lake where benches are available to sit and marvel at the night sky. We went during the day to check it out, but weren’t willing to hike it in the evening.

Meteor Missile!
Instead, we drove to the small boat ramp at Wilderness State Park, only a few miles away, to try to view the Perseid meteor showers. Except we were there a day early (leaving the following day), so sightings were sparse. In total, after two hours, we only saw four meteors. While everyone else spotted little shooting stars…the one I saw was a like a shooting planet. Seriously, the flare was so big it looked like a missile; maybe we’re being attacked by Wisconsin! Is it because I said you didn’t look like a mitten? Of course, everyone else was either distracted or looking in the wrong direction… so no one can corroborate my story. What? How did you not SEE that!?

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Stay tuned for the 3rd and final part of our trip…​

Up North = Pentwater to Pinconning
From the towns of Pentwater to Pinconning, an imaginary line extends across the upper 1/3 of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula; once you’ve crossed that line, you’re “up north”. Above this latitude exists, arguably, the most beautiful areas of the state. It most definitely IS the least populated, due to its long, harsh winters and lack of amenities (like Starbucks). But mild summertime temps and extensive outdoor activities attracts tourists and lake house property-seekers from the “south” (meaning Detroit, Lansing and Grand Rapids) by the hordes.

This Northwoods tranquility evokes the sort of vibe that leads to reclining (or napping) in a hammock with a good book; drinking beer with friends or family in front of a campfire while roasting marshmallows; jumping off the end of the dock into clear, cool lake-water; stargazing on the beach; paddling or tubing down a lazy, sandy-bottomed river. Where time slows to a crawl, schedules go right out the window and going for a hike always seems to be a better idea than shopping. But can’t you do that anywhere? Nope. It’s not the same. Just listen to “Michigan and Again” by the Accidentals. You’ll get the idea. This tune intones the magic of “Pure Michigan”, the state marketing slogan.

I know I’m “up north” when…
I start seeing fish mailboxes. And if you don’t know what a fish mailbox is, please, just google it. Other dead giveaways:

• tree stump statues carved with a chainsaw, usually into a bear…
• cute little wooden signs at the head of every driveway personifying their lake cottages (or mansions) as “Higgins Hollow” or “Perch Paradise”…
• every other car on the road is a 5th wheel or trailer heading to or from a week of camping “up north”…
• farm stands offering freshly picked blueberries, cherries, sweet corn, smoked coho salmon and baked goodies (just leave your money in the tin can)…
• log cabin, lumberjack or fish references in every restaurant name…
• and miles and miles of densely forested landscape polka-dotted with bass boat-filled lakes. With 3288 miles of Great Lakes shoreline (more coastline than any other state, barring Alaska) and over 11,000 inland lakes, statistically you cannot go more than 6 miles without running into water.

The Mitten
The state of Michigan looks like a right hand (at least the lower portion), complete with a “thumb”, a “middle finger” and a “pinky”. This “mitten” identification is supremely irritating to Wisconsinites who erroneously believe their state is more in the shape of a mitten (except your “thumb” looks like Skeletor’s index finger). If you ask a Michigander where they live, and you are unfamiliar with the town, they’ll immediately indicate the location by pointing to a spot on their open right hand. We just can’t help it.

The Start
It had been years since I’d gone camping Up North as a kid and Brian never had been to either side of the upper Lower Peninsula. So we planned a 3 week excursion in V-Ger the voyaging van, in between visiting our parents and family in the lower Lower Peninsula. So… onwards and upwards to fish mailbox country.

Pentwater
First stop: Pentwater State Park. We ate lunch in the van overlooking sparkling Lake Michigan (one of the benefits of touring around in your house). We did a “drive-by” but didn’t stop downtown because of a farmer’s market resulting in NO parking. Oh well. We did stroll along the breakwater and harbor entrance lined with cute vacation homes and B&B’s heading to Pentwater Lake.

Ludington
Next up, Ludington State Park. This place is one of the most sought after campgrounds in the state, typically booked 6 months in advance. With 5000 acres, there’s a lot of nature to explore: 21 miles of hiking trails, some of which are specifically designed for biking and cross country skiing; canoeing and fishing in Hamlin Lake; swimming in Lake Michigan; tubing down the Big Sable River; round that off with a nature center and the Big Sable Lighthouse… you need a few days to soak it all in.

Since I can’t plan that far ahead to get a site, I wanted to at least visit. On this sultry 90-degree day, the beach parking lot was filled and cars lined the dunesfront drive. So we veered away from the hundreds of beachgoers and hiked instead. I would have liked to visit the lighthouse, but it’s one of the few that isn’t accessible by car…hiking 3.6 miles (yup, 1.8 in & 1.8 out) is your only option. Hmmm. We weren’t game for that much of a hike so late in the afternoon. So instead, we found ourselves rambling through the peaceful sand dune forest without witnessing a single soul. Much better idea. Although we probably ended up hiking well over 2 miles in the dunes… (but what Brian doesn’t know won’t hurt him!) After schlepping up and down boardwalk stairs in the heat, we enviously watched the tubers float down the river towards Lake Michigan. Shoulda gone tubin’!

Manistee
We stayed for two nights at Orchard Beach State Park, ideally located close to Manistee and situated on a cliff overlooking Lake Michigan. The sunset views here are unbeatable. “Beach access” is via a steep, cliff-side stairway terminating into a scrubby stretch of beach. Sharp little rocks line the immediate coastline here but your reward for a little abrasion and rock slime is hard-packed sand in stand-upable, waist-deep water just 20 feet offshore. Plus, no stingrays to worry about stepping on! After much goading, wheedling & nagging, I finally convinced Brian into taking the plunge into the cool, clear waters. Chicken!

Manistee is a picturesque little seaside village boasting a 1.75-mile Riverwalk, extending from Manistee Lake past the historic Victorian downtown shops and restaurants, out to a lovely, grassy park at the Lake Michigan breakwater. We enjoyed walking much of this peaceful and non-touristy boardwalk lined with flowerbeds, shrubbery, beautiful trees and of course, lots of boat slips!

Silver Lake
This is the home of the Mack Dune Rides. A portion of these wild and amazing sand dunes at Silver Lake have been set aside for ‘dune-ing’ enjoyment by personal ATVs, dirt bikes and open-air, 20-passenger, 4x4 vehicles with huge aircraft tires made for sand-running. We got to ride in the front seat of one of these trucks so we had expansive views of the surrounding land with Silver Lake on the one side and Lake Michigan on our other. As we raced up & down each sandy hill, slid around slippery curves and bounded over moguls, we all “Wheeee!”d our way to a spectacularly empty Lake Michigan beach. This was such a cool little side trip - I had initially decided against it, but made Brian turn around. (Bah, I’m a woman…I can change my mind!) Glad I did.

Sleeping Bear Dunes
Despite having been born in Michigan, even after living here over 20 years, Brian had never seen the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Shoreline. I had been here as a kid and felt he was missing out. It’s a definite must-see for any Michigan native or visitor alike, as it’s arguably the most beautiful region in the entire state.

The Legend of Sleeping Bear – as found on www.nps.gov
“Long ago, along the Wisconsin shoreline, a mother bear and her two cubs were driven into Lake Michigan by a raging forest fire. The bears swam for many hours, but eventually the cubs tired and lagged behind. Mother bear reached the shore and climbed to the top of a high bluff to watch and wait for her cubs. Too tired to continue, the cubs drowned within sight of the shore. The Great Spirit Manitou created two islands to mark the spot where the cubs disappeared and then created a solitary dune to represent the faithful mother bear.” The two island “cubs” are the Manitou Islands (North & South) and the high cliff “mother bear” dune is still visible.

The parks’ main lure is the 7-mile Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive which threads hiking trailheads and scenic overlooks, winding initially through beech-maple forest, opening up to expansive dune views. A short walk gets you to an observation deck built 450ft high above Lake Michigan on a spectacular bluff overlooking the warm and inviting shoreline. From the cliff edge, we can see tiiiny beings easily sliding down to the shore below…and then truuuudging back up those steeeep 450ft, ever so slooooowly. It looks like such a cool thing to do. Except I know better…

The Longest Hike
As a kid, we hiked a nearby trail for what felt like hours towards the lake, trudging through soft sand and fragrant juniper, buffalo berry and jack pine. “It’s just over that next bluff, I can smell the water”, my dad said. The next hill came and went and still no water. And…again. And…again. “No really, I know we’re close.” Finally we get to Lake Michigan. Except it’s 400ft down (just like this overlook). And at a 60-degree angle (just like this overlook). Shining up like a siren from below, my dad couldn’t help it…he went down the slope… well, slid really. Mom and I waited. And waited. And waited. It’s so steep you can’t see the bottom in some areas so for awhile we couldn’t see him. We waited and waited some more. Well over an hour later, he finally heaves himself back up, exhausted…and we still have to slog all the way back to the car. Yeah. I remember that, and I’m not going down there.

See, going down is the fun part. Whoohoo!  Run, run, run! Or more likely, slide on your butt. But… they say, if you go down, expect to take at least 1-2 hours of trudging in soft sand to get back up. Take one step up, slide down a ½-step or ¾-step. People are apparently rescued all the time because they underestimate just how HARD it is. At the above particular overlook along the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, lots of people do this very thing (despite the discouraging warning signs). We didn’t. It was uber-hot that day and I didn’t want to spend 2 hours climbing. So we left it to the uber-crazies.

Not uber-crazy, but mildly-crazy?
Brian would say right here “Wait…YOU are the crazy one because you made me do The Dune Climb that same day!" OK, that’s true. The climb down to the water would have been excruciating in that heat. The angle was very steep and the sand swallowed up your entire foot with each step. I knew we were not up to THAT task. But we HAD to climb a dune. I mean, what the heck were we DOING here if we didn’t, at a minimum, perform the requisite DUNE CLIMB. EVERYbody’s doin’ it.

The Dune Climb
The Dune Climb is an easily accessible, not horribly steep, dune with slightly more compacted sand, where EVERYBODY who wimps out on the Lake climb goes to climb a dune to say you’ve done it. 2-year-olds do it. Pregnant women do it. Old men do it. Because that’s what you DO. But no one realizes just how much it’s still going to kick your a** until you’re in the middle of the hill. I witnessed overweight women and thoroughly fit women alike, stopping at every other step, longingly looking up to the top, swearing and shaking their head. One very athletic woman (not me) said, “I thought I was in decent shape”. Yeah, I hear ya.

So of course it’s hot. And we are both dying. And the sand is burning our bare feet. And it takes forever to get to the top and Brian is mostly-fake-whining the entire way just to make it plain that this here 1-step up/½-step back scenario is all my doing. Finally, we get to the top and the view is amazing. So totally worth the effort and severe dehydration. Brian: “Don’t listen to her…run away.” Then I wanted to continue over to the next bluff; Brian did not. Me: “But I think we can see Lake Michigan from that dune over there…” Hmmm…like father like daughter. Brian: Puts foot down. Party pooper. So we both ran back down the dune to the parking lot like little kids (OK, I did) and downed an entire Gatorade in seconds. Dune climb… check.

We could have spent more time here but the campgrounds were packed and I had an agenda. This place is a hiking and biking dreamsicle in summer. Nearby, paved bike trails run for miles and sandy hiking trails meander along bluffs and into the forest. Next time, I’d like to canoe or kayak down the Platte River and do some more hiking. Autumn would be a beautiful time to explore this area.

Funny story.
Part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes is the Glen Haven Maritime Museum and Lifesaving Station. You know, the kind that used open whaling boats trolled out to sea with a line and reeled back in once the rescued were on board. Most wrecks here happened close to shore, so connecting the boat to the station with a long rope actually worked much of the time. Anyway, I was walking down the wooden boardwalk to the beach and noted the last step was nearly covered in blowing sand. I even TOLD Brian to watch his step. After taking pictures, do ya THINK I’d remember my own advice just one minute ago? NOOO. Headed back up the stairs, that first sand-covered step reared up out of nowhere, I tripped and took a nose dive…elbow-first.

It was one of those slo-mo moments when you instantly think…someone is probably taping this and I’ll end up on YouTube tomorrow. Of course, I instinctively protected my expensive camera by cradling it in my right hand…landing full force on my elbow. Touchdown! Fortunately for me, I landed in fluffy sand. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure my elbow would be broken. But I DID manage to gouge out said elbow real good and blood started pouring. It took me 10 minutes to wash all the sand out of my raw skin. Fun stuff. Luckily, this was the only casualty the entire trip.

Glen Arbor
Shocked, shocked, shocked at the amount of tourists swarming in this TINY town. We had lunch and ran through The Cherry Republic store which sells all things cherry…cherry salsa, chocolate cherries, cherry wine… and cherry pie (which I HAD to take home for later).

Leland
Even more shocked at even more tourists clamoring all over the dinky hamlet of Leland, one of the only working commercial fishing villages still in existence in Michigan. We had to park a ½ mile away and walk to downtown. Here at the mouth of the Leland River lies the historically preserved, miniature fishing village called Fishtown. Small fishing boats and grey, weathered wooden shanties linked by a crooked boardwalk hovering over the water on stilts, pays homage to what these commercial villages looked like over one hundred years ago. Except in addition to the fisherman and their catch, smokehouses and drying fishing nets… we stroll past several quaint shops in rustic, clapboard shacks selling cheese, wine, ice cream, art and “up north” decor. It’s really a cute place and a definite ‘must-stop’…but we were overloaded by the heat and the crowds and…well…we were just DONE. Time to get to the campground…

Leelanau
Our next campground was Leelanau State Park, situated at the tip of the Leelanau Peninsula; if you look at the Michigan outline, it’s the mitten’s “pinky”. The Grand Traverse Lighthouse is located on site. Despite its proximity to the Lake, campsites are nestled in thick woods and there’s not much of a beach – most of the shoreline is rocky marsh. This is a rustic campground, meaning NO electricity, no water and pit toilets. But with our solar panel, despite the 100% tree cover, we can still manage for a day, maybe two, without plugging in…a nice feeling. And you can’t beat $14 a night! With lots of open sites, this is a great place to go for serene seclusion.

Northport/Suttons Bay
​Travelling down the east side of the Leelanau Peninsula we walked through the charming town of Northport, strolled along the marina watching the boats, and purchased a loaf of delicious cherry breakfast bread from a local bakery. After a yummy lunch in the neighboring town of Suttons Bay, we did some wine tasting at French Valley Vineyards overlooking the Traverse Bay. If you like wine, come to the ‘Pinky’. With a wine trail of over 25 different wineries in the immediate area, wine aficionados go Loopy for Leelanau!

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​More trip to come...!​