The Lakes Great
Canada’s being closed limited our tour, but it was still grand and will continue while we visit Peter and Robyn in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Pete is Nick’s older brother, and we haven’t seen him since our wedding, two years ago. Though, we’re also reticent to swing by during Covid so it is with a divided mind that we cross from the UP to Wisconsin.
After Lake Ontario’s Eastern and Southern shores, and the Niagara Falls, we hugged Lake Erie’s southern shore through Pennsylvania and Ohio. Then we turned north up the Detroit River, which is better described as a gorge or flume, not unlike the Niagara and St Clair, that link the great lakes at Buffalo and Port Huron, respectively.
Presque Isle State Park, PA
These waterways remain busy, but host a mere fraction of the traffic they did in the steamer age. They are also much more dramatic than the largely lazy lakes themselves, especially Port Huron, where the St Clair River still pushes huge freighters and their pilot tugs about like toys in a bathtub.
In fact, before the construction of the bridge, they would cross the river on a ferry that was attached to a pillar installed somehow in the middle of the channel and would pivot on it in the current. Just last week some low pressure weather event lowered and then raised the water levels here so quickly that it tilted the harbor and cut power to thousands.
There is neat little museum under the international bridge there mostly dedicated to Thomas Alva Edison, or “Al” as he is remembered in these parts. Its passionate docent wouldn’t let us leave without playing some cylinders on Al’s personal favorite invention: the phonograph. It was his favorite, apparently, because of the sheer joy and amazement its playing provided its early listeners. Relatable.
Nick still feels like he is on summer break, as if he has a fall semester to get anxious over as opposed to being retired full time and full stop. (Or Periodt, as the kids say?) Daisy and Frida still don’t know where they are going or where they have been, or why the heck mommy built them a wooden house to live in and herself a metal bed to sleep on before putting them and everything else in the world inside a van and driving around the country to stop in random places to take walks with other hoomans with their dogs and surrounded by chipmunks with no leashes on.
In any case, here are a few highlights, which we note here mostly for our memories, but maybe for yours as well?
We just had some amazing feedback from our friend Josh Cranston re Rochester, and would love to hear from more of you re what not to miss as we head west to Minnesota, the Dakotas, Montana and beyond.
A fortnight ago, we stopped at Presque Isle Beach in Pennsylvania, as we needed time to relax and process the grandeur of the Niagara falls and Great Lakes; the dogs also seemed grateful for the chance to laze about.
Cleveland’s (annoyingly) closed maritime museum–why can’t people at least walk up to the vessels at dock there?–was quickly forgotten by the amazing Rock and Roll Hall of Fame next door!
It was a little strange, as it had pop artists of today – Katy Perry, Billie Eilish, and Taylor Swift, along with rappers Snoop, Tupac, and others that we aren’t familiar with – which ok is ignorant because meanwhile, there was only one exhibit to Elton John and we didn’t see Queen anywhere (though there were some exhibits that were closed).
Karyssa noted that the Hall seemed built by Nick and his peers; most exhibits were bent on capturing his experience with wock and woll, from Led Zeppelin to Liz Phair (be still my heart).
And she was fairly ecstatic about seeing Joni Mitchell’s lyrics and one of her guitars.
After an encounter with the police in Ohio for parking overnight in a park that closed at 10, we groggily and begrudgingly found a Walmart parking lot close by. It was bound to happen at some point, but K was especially irritated by the situation (to be fair, she’s almost always angry when anyone wakes her up).
The next day, we totally disrespected Detroit – where Em grew up (a must see city for K, who was nostalgic for the rapper, despite her frustration with his sexism and homophobia) – and need to plan a redo. But we did see Mbad African’s Bead Museum: made by Olayami Dabls. To quote from the site, he “uses references from African material culture to tell stories about the human condition. Using iron, rock, wood, and mirrors, Dabls found that these four materials are primary building blocks that speak universally to all cultures.” K found the place using one of those “The *actual* top things to do in…” sites that showcase lesser known sites. And we must say, this one was worth the drive.
Heading up the St Clair river, we found a park to sleep at by Lake St Clair in New Baltimore and went fishing. N rode the struggle bus for an hour or so, as Brian Gallagher never explained Walleye to him, while K caught a perch on her third cast (the first two having tangled up in the trees).
We toured tourist-filled Traverse City for a minute but managed to discover Nordhouse Dunes along Lake Michigan, where we planned on stealth-camping, until a chick’s VW car got stuck in the mud on the only road in or out. After trying in vain to use the winch Eric gave us to free her, we dropped her off at a friend’s camp to call in the rangers.
We ended up at Sundling Park, where we made some tofu tacos in a picnic area while the burning ball of hydrogen and helium you call the sun set.
The variety of places we’ve slept in reflects the unique historical and cultural contingencies of any particular place and time. One night we slept in baseball park with a super nice bathroom and the next on a Carp River fishing pier with a pissed-off first nation/Native American complaining about the lack of jobs that he’d like to do (LOL).
The very next day was a doozy and found us in Hessel surounded by Norwegian and Germanic yacht-owners who most definitely wore their privelege on their sleeve, as well they should, having earned such feirce fore-fathers who settled and logged and fished and farmed this hard country. K insisted on putting a body part in all five of the Great Lakes. So, here is where she stood in Lake Huron.
Afterwards we headed to Whitefish Point Lighthouse where we saw Lake Superior and learned about an endangered bird, the piping plover.
Then off to Tahquemenon “rhymes with phenomenon” Falls, of which the trail to was lined with hemlock, cedar, spruce, pine, maple, birch, and aspen.
Lots of national forest land in these parts and there restoration efforts show in this diverse and balanced canopy. In the 1800s, lumber was king here, and all the big pine were harvested, which opened up space for faster growing hardwoods like maple and birch. Now they are more selectively pruning, and it’s hard to imagine a healthier forest. The early logging industry reveals itself in artifacts near Sable Falls and the wild Log Slide in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.
At the north-westernmost tip of Michigan’s UP, the summer crowds thinned somewhat, and there we discovered Au Sable Light Station.
The trail leading to was short with detours to old shipwrecks along the beach. The dogs quickly learned the likely chipmunk habitats and began checking each upturned root for the rodents.
Miners Falls was still too crowded, but Miners Beach left an impression.
All of the rivers here, and there are a bunch: the Tahquemenon, the Manistique, the Carp and Fox, the Rapid and Two Hearted (of Hemingway’s story, I take it) all pour their red, tannin-rich water into the light blue and amazingly clear water of Lakes Superior and Michigan.
We worry that the water is too clear, actually, as the re-introduction of mussels into lake Michigan means a clearer water column, which means more sunlight at greater depths which means more vegetation, so they are closely monitoring these ecosystems.
Approaching the end of the peninsula in Marquette, we tried to hike inland to the Eben Ice Caves, crossing a farmer’s recently mowed alfalfa field buzzing with birds.
It was a failure, as the ravines were very wet and muddy and we weren’t prepared for the onslaught of mosquitoes that attacked. It’s a bummer, as the ravines here are geological odities, and the trails are described as “treacherous.”
Needing a reprieve from our smelly clothes and dirtied dish cloths and towels, we headed to cute Marquette for laundry day, and the first thing you notice is this massive, long, oddly tall pier jutting out into the lake from the town’s harbor.
It’s one of a couple remaining ore piers, designed to quickly load haul-tons of rock down to Chicago, Detroit and Erie for smelting. They have 50 or so arms that can be lowered directly into the hulls of freighters, which have to be loaded on both sides evenly of course.
Following the advice of a local, we drove the 6 minutes down the road to a different Presque Isle, and may we just say, Fuck off with your “No Dogs Allowed” bullshit.
The intensity of that is said in jest, but the content is meant. The amount of trails and parks, to include National Parks, that don’t allow dogs is frustrating, to say the least.
Anyway, we decided to head back south for somewhere to sleep. On iOverlander (an app which crowd-sources formal and informal vanlife spots to “boondock” or overnight at) we heard of Peninsula Point Lighthouse, which is just across the bay from Escanaba River State Forest and back on Lake Michigan. It seemed too small to have any room left late in the day, but we tried it, and it was freakin’ divine!
The lighthouse was now decommissioned, which allowed us to climb it. We were treated to a glorious sunset all to ourselves. We bathed and fished for as long as our tolerance to bugs would allow.
The sky that night was lit by the moonlight to reveal the scattered clouds that seemed painted in the background with stars that peeked out between them and the silhouette of the lighthouse popping out before them.
The Monarch population at this tiny and remote spot has been studied since the 1970s, and thus have more data on Monarch populations here than from anywhere else in the US. It’s easy to see why, as the place is covered in by now blown milkweed and as it points itself due south into the lake. As Pensacola is the the jumping off location before they cross the Gulf of Mexico, it’s a magical coincidence that we stumbled upon the other end of the Monarch’s amazing voyage. As it takes 4-5 generations to make the trip. The flutterbyes that gather here only know to do so by a kind of knowing we know little about. In that regard, hoomans aren’t much smarter than dogs.