No Fishing, No Catching

Well, so much for fishing. We didn’t even get the lines wet this trip. It rained half the time we were at Walloon Lake and was windy and cold the other half. We had fires in the fireplace almost every day and wore multiple layers even to bed. But it was beautiful!

In northern Michigan they say if you don't like the weather, don't worry, because it's not going to stay that way for long. It can be beautiful and sunny one minute, pouring rain the next, hot and humid for a few minutes after that, and then cold and windy the rest of the day. But...

Rainy Days in Paradise are better...

View through the windshield, crossing on the ferry

We took the Ironton Ferry (known as the shortest ferry ride in the world) to Charlevoix (pronounced shar-le-voy) in the pouring rain, but it cleared long enough for us to poke around several antique shops, a public access to Lake Michigan, and the main street of town. Lake Michigan was big that day, but just like me in a snow storm, plenty of sailors were heading out into the spray. Many people have no idea how big the Great Lakes are and are surprised by their vastness. I love choppy days because the horizon, which curves with the globe with no land interruptions, looks like it's been scissored with pinking shears.

All for the life on the rolling sea

YU Pers for a Day

On a semi clear day, we drove to Whitefish Point, the northern most point on the eastern side of the Upper Peninsula. Before we crossed the Mackinac Bridge, I stopped for gas even though the tank was more than half full. My passenger asked, "Why are we filling up?" We have a little "discussion" about the timing of tank topping off every trip. "Because there is nothing up there," I said. After we drove over the 5-mile suspension bridge with breathtaking views of the Straights, where Lakes Michigan and Huron meet, traveled through the little town on the other side, and lost the rest of the world to miles and miles of uninterrupted trees, my passenger asked, "So is this more or less what we're going to see the whole way?"

"More," I replied. "I'm telling you, there is nothing up here." That of course is not exactly true, but he'd actually never seen quite so much of nothing! The occasional glimpse of sun shining on water, a little town called Paradise, and some mail boxes were our sole entertainment for several hours. The road got narrower, the trees denser, the lone mail boxes and snow mobile trail crossings fewer and farther between. But suddenly, we were there.

And the sun came out...

And so did the freighters. We watched several make their way toward Canada or Minnesota. I told him about the summer we went to Sault Ste. Marie (pronounced sue saint marie) and watched a freighter go through the Soo locks, only to follow it the rest of our trip west along the UP shore. If we stopped, it got ahead of us, and if we kept going, it caught up. If the song about the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald doesn't spontaneously pop into your head as you watch the ships go by, a turn through the museum or gift shop will firmly embed it in your brain.

Perhaps because it was overcast, or the parking lot was full despite the weather, the foghorn mourned the whole time we walked the beach. It's sultry tones resonated through you and filled your mind, accompanied by the constant waves. The dog, who only learned to swim this summer, had never experienced waves like this before, though he'd finally learned to step into the water on Walloon after lots of encouragement to "get a drink." After some respectful hesitation, he ran in and tried to catch the foam on one and from there raced up and down the beach after every wave he saw, even though I tried to explain that they'd keep coming right to him the whole rest of the day if he just held still. After he got good and wet, he rolled in the sand until it was lodged in between every toe and hair.

After we'd each filled a bag with Lake Superior rocks and agates, and headed back to the car to drive to Tahquamenon Falls, the dog suddenly decided the foghorn was a dangerous threat and barked all the way to the parking lot, which is not a short walk. There was no convincing him that he'd been listening to that sound for about 2 hours; it was new, it was big, and it was scary!

We stopped at the Blueberry Festival in Paradise in search of food. We didn't see any blueberries and the only food was a long line leading to a white fish platter, which we didn't have time for. One tent contained a vast collection of Petoskey stones, which I'd been helping my companion find on our sandy road, especially easy to do in the rain. He's hooked now and bought himself some fine-grit sand paper and finishing compound so he can polish all the stones he brought home. I just keep mine oiled, so they're not shiny, but you can tell what they are.

The Falls were busy with dogs, people, and kids, and stunning as usual. I'm sure they remind some people of iced tea or root beer, but all I could think about was having a Guinness!

As usual, I found something weird. This HUGE spider guarding its eggs. It was almost as long as my hand and reminded me of the gigantic water spiders that used to live under our dock. My dad said they ate little fish. I wonder why we don't see them anymore. Maybe our old all-wood dock was a better environment than our new wood and aluminum dock. Or they're just gone from the lake. I had to sit on the balcony hanging over the falls, fit my hand and camera through the railing, and hope the spider and its grape-bunch sack of eggs was in the shot, without letting anyone see what I was up to, while holding the dog at bay (as well as on the balcony--he's really attracted to water now--and out of people's way). There were just too many rowdy boys around to expect the spider to remain undisturbed if anyone else caught sight of it. (double click on the photo to see the eggs)

On our way home, we took Route 2 along the shore of Lake Michigan, which has beautiful views and road signs that warn you to watch out for sand dunes moving across the road. We stopped at a roadside stand and bought hot Cornish pasties with beef gravy for dinner and drooled all the way back to the cottage, where we lit a fire, settled into cocktails and a game of cribbage, and argued over whose rocks were more interesting and which ones we were willing to trade.

Sunshine on a rainy day

Me and the dog

All photos were taken by me. Please do not copy them or use them for any purpose.