Tallships Return to the Great Lakes

It started when I was little. My first memory of anything outside of our home is being on the dock at the marina. Mom and Dad took us to the zoo. It was just me and my sister so I had to have been about 3 years old. When we were done at the zoo we went down to the small little marina and looked at the boats. I was fascinated. For some reason, paper pirate hats had become a thing for Uncle Rich to give us when ever he came over. I guess he got them from Long John Silvers.

Then when I was about 12 a replica of Columbus' ships came to town. We got to climb all through the thing... as much as we could with all the "behave" admonishments. The Santa Maria was impressive, as was the Nina when it came nearly a decade later during an incarnation of the Tallship Festival. We saw HMS Bounty (O.B.M) when it came. And when any tallship came to dock we went. My sister was a galley hand on the Manitou, a ship formerly based in Northport which now does tours for the Traverse Tallship Company. 

And then mom went overboard. Everything became about the boats. She obsessed to the point where I didn't want to look at a ship for a long time, never mind get on one again. The Tallship festival went on without me. 

al

Last year, for whatever reason, I started thinking about tall ships again. DurinTs in the children's encyclopedia; a story of sea dragons, Indian Prince stuck on a raft, Old Man & the Sea, and a the story of privateer made mayor John Lafitte's cunning in defending New Orleans from pirates. The more swashbuckling the tale the more intrigued I became. Being a 10 year old girl and not a 10 year old boy, this was something of a shock to a lot of people. But Uncle Rich, as I said, indulged. And for a time so did my parents and grandparents. eventually my interests would swing to horses. Whenever we read anything for school pertaining to the sea my heart felt a special thrill. I loved the tallships in the security of the deepest part of my heart. 

Since this is the Summer of Sherry, and I am not saying no to the things that I love anymore, today was my Tallship Day. I've been so busy working for the last 10 Summers I didn't even noticed when we stopped having official tallship festivals. But it does explain the weird looks I'd get from front desk when I sighed my desires to go and not be stuck at work. Anyway... A couple of weeks ago news made it round facebook that there was a Great Lakes leg of the 2016 Tallships Challenge. It made a splash because Vikings. 

For the first time EVER a real Viking longboat has entered the Tallships Challenge. Draken Harald Harfagre, hailing from Norway, was schedule to sail the Great Lakes. You can well imagine the delight of the Norwegian-Americans in the region. Unfortunately, US Bureaucratic Red Tape nearly stopped it dead in the water at the St. Lawrence. Much complaining and some emergency fundraising let her underway. She has now rounded the tip of Michigan's mit at the Straits of Mackinac headed toward Beaver Island. None of the ships are scheduled to stop in Traverse City. Not officially anyway. The longboat isn't scheduled for any Michigan stops. Neither was the galeon Andalucia. But the minute that she was announced to stop, I got my but ready to go down and see her in. 

like a scene fresh outta Goonies

el Galeon Andalucia is a Spanish vessel out of Seville, Spain. The goal of the tallship festivals is to present history in a hands on setting. Spain, uses the Andalucia to teach topics from Old World sailing techniques to Spanish naval history. Galleons were shipping vessels that were pressed into exploratory service as circumnavigating the globe became a competition between European Kings. They represent  one of 10 types of vessels that comprised Phillip II doomed armada in 1588. Galleons are famous and most recognizable for being the ship of choice for self-respecting pirates in the Caribbean. Indeed, the little boy in front of me could barely contain his excitement at the thought of their being pirates aboard. That is until he remembered that his mom's phone could catch Pokemon. 

The official website does not list us as a stop. Apparently stops are being added along the way as cities issue invites and make docking a possibility. The announcement came on Wednesday. A storm system came through the region forcing the ships to stay on the Huron side. I didn't know that until I got downtown this morning and didn't see a ship. It was supposed to have been in Thursday night. It finally rolled in around 10:45. And the waiting and watching from Open Space was... entertaining?

I met a ship hunter down there and we chatted for a while. She told me that the Viking longboat was coming in to Frankfort Harbor for tours on Saturday and that today she was stalking the Galleon. She followed it in from Suttons Bay. We watched as several sailboats went out into the west arm of Grand Traverse Bay to meet it. It was just a tiny blip on the horizon, hard to make out between the haze and the the furled sails. As it came passed Power Island it made quite am impression. Following it into the harbor was both thrilling and terrifying as several boaters moored in the marina made some poor choices. One boater left his slip as the galleon rounded the break wall and was trying to enter the narrow passage to its mooring location. The Sheriff's department has to yell at him to go back to his slip as a chorus of "Moron" & "Lunatic" came from the elderly crowd of sideline captains around me. 

The docking process was amazing to watch as she turned and backed in to her spot. It was  truly one of the most majestic things that I have seen in a very long time. Andalucia will be here until Tuesday. I am employing all of my resources to make sure the Summer of Sherry includes a Viking longboat. And when she leaves Tuesday, my goal is to have video of her underway. 

I got some great shots while I was down there. 

this crewman was going about his business during the docking procedure. when he
noticed the camera he did stop and hold still. i didn't realize that is was quite on purpose
until i saw the photos enlarged & saw he made direct eye contact.
How cool is that? 

It was nearly high noon as she backed into
her slip. The haze of the day made this shot
possible.

Pulling up to the pier. Iconic Traverse City
landmark, theState Bank building
in the background

Pretty sure this was an unplanned stop. The parks department didn't
have a chance to cancel the sprinkles for the growing crowd. Though,
I must say, on this hot day it was a relief. 

Anxiety Update: Grounding

another tropical looking beach view in Northern Michigan

I can't tell you where this is. So far, it is the emptiest beach we have found and I want to keep it this way for a few reasons. The biggest reason, anxiety. As I have said, getting out to the beach and getting my feet in the sand, water and across the rocks is grounding. And I need a lot of grounding right now. This is where we were on Saturday and what we were doing.

Grounding
You, undoubtedly, have heard the term from a mental health professional or even the New Agers. Grounding is the process by which we literally find our feet. If you are going to use New Age speak, grounding let's the energy in the earth, travel through you, connecting you and your energy, to the ether or cosmos. This creates a complete circuit and allows you to navigate your life choices with a kind of certainty and freedom that is otherwise impossible when circuits are broken. In mental health terms, when you are grounded you are living in your most authentic self. And the most authentic self is the one least troubled by the outside of the world. Granted this simplifies things a bit much. The process and the need is a little more complicated than one paragraph or one blog post can cover. This is a good start though.

Grounding involves being in the moment, being totally involved in and engaged with who you are in respect to your gender identity and personality. And the steps beyond those two basic identifiers are in living your passions and callings. When one denies any part of ones self there is discord, disconnection and then dysfunction. And that is where I think that mental illness begins.

I'm not an expert in this area so I can not be clinically certain of this. Nor can you do more with the statement than run it passed whomever assists you with your own issues. I come to this conclusion by observing my own life and comparing the periods of greatest contentment and greatest discontentment. Nothing can make me more certain of this than the moment in which I am currently.

Today, and for the rest of the week I am in Grand Rapids. I have been invited by a friend, staying with him and with only 2.50 to live on for the week. I have brought with me enough material to work productively during the week. The plan is to attack the projects that I have not had the focus to accomplish much while I have been at home. Too much to distract me and none of it all that helpful. So away for a week. Away to someplace that dredges the past in both good and bad ways. Not that good or bad is even accurate. Happy and sad are not accurate either. Whatever the description is or should be for the memories or the feelings those memories bring the effect is the same.

I am anxious.
I am sad.
I have a longing for something in the past that rather haunts the present.

I came to Grand Rapids grounded. I spend either Friday or Saturday every week grounding myself. It is something that I have not done for most of the last 10 years. Much like people who stop taking medication when they feel better give illness a foothold to return, ceasing to perform your personal rituals gives illness in spirit and mind a foothold. You lose your defense against many things, many influences. When you lose defenses you lose direction. When you lose your own sense of direction then others can control you. Today I struggle with control. I don't want to lose myself to memories. Today I struggle with a disconnected past. Grand Rapids represents disconnect.

My anxiety is officially diagnosed as PTSD. My sense of this, where the city is concerned, is an unsettled past. My Wondertwin lives here. Our story might be considered tragic for the fact that a romance will never come of it though at one time that was the goal for which we both had hoped. Yet, for reasons that are completely obvious to me now, romance was never wheat the Universe had intended. It should have been obvious to each of us that if we called each other Wondertwin then we were connected only as siblings could be connected. And we were connected, are connected in a way that Souls are meant to connect for sustainable support.

When men and women connect it is usually assumed that it is going to be for the purpose of relationships, sex, pro-creation. So with those assumptions, it is very easy for them to get confused. And he was always confused. Sometimes I get confused about these things too. And I confused things with him. But back then, something inside of me wouldn't let the confusion last. I was strong enough to not let who I was slip away. I tried to keep us both centered in our own personality. He resisted. I could not survive as something other than who I am. So we parted.

Every once in awhile he would contact me. The last time he did I was dating someone. This didn't fit into his plan. And when I realized that someone else, yet again, had expected me to make my life about them at my own expense I lashed out. Being here, in his city, I want to reach out and heal that scar for both of us. You see, I know myself. I have always known myself. And when I am asked to be other than myself I have to stop whatever course would allow me to become lost. This often means that I must disappoint someone. Some people do not handle the disappointment well. And sometimes I do not handle the redirection well. This was one of those times.

And one of the reasons that Grounding is so important. If I had been better grounded, I am certain that I could have handled things with him better. I believe I could have stated my case without anger and we could have parted as friends. If I had been grounded I would not have been dating anyone. When I am grounded I know that I am not supposed to be dating anyone. It is not who I am. Whenever I do things that are out of my nature there is chaos and then there is anxiety.

When anxiety comes it does not leave as easily or as swiftly as it arrived. I don't know if the potential for mental illness lies dormant waiting for the right circumstance to manifest or if it is entirely a deposit of circumstance. All I know is that the worst times I have in dealing with myself and the things that go on in my head and the panic of dealing with situations come when I am not grounded. And I can not deal with them until I am grounded.

Grounding is being rooted inside your Self. It is knowing who you are and making choices that support that. In my case, with him, it is knowing that I am to be single. Be it a state of birth or the consequence of early traumas, I am a single woman. I knew that when I was 14. And the biggest mistakes, the ones that bore consequences both bitter and difficult to over come, were made when I was less myself and trying to be more like others. In the attempt to fit into the shapes others chose for me I fell through into a kind of nothingness. This is so for each mistake I made. I married when I knew that I should not. I married to please a friend, to please my sister and to please the society that we lived in. I did not marry to please myself or fulfill my purpose. And it cost me the ground I gained in the attempt to fulfill my purpose. I dated my Wondertwin to please him, and then again to gain acceptance into a circle that I felt I was supposed to belong to. In the end, neither my marriage nor the relationship with my Wondertwin withstood the chaos.

You see, we know who we are at a very young age. When we are counseled to embrace our inner child we do not take it quite far enough. We stop at wonderment and joy of creative expression or of natural expression. We do not go as far into the life of our inner child as the contentment of being true. Children do not dampen their enthusiasm or curiosity until they are compelled to do so for fear of punishment. Adults squash the exuberances of youth because they are naturally messy and chaotic. Somewhere along the line of evolution we have learned that adulthood is for order and construct life to be that way. It is not so. It can not be so because life is a tangled skein of yarn, spun from the unpredictable events in each of our lives. We spend a considerable amount of time as adults in the untangling of it while as children we just use the parts we can get to. At least that was my hands on experience with yarn. I will never be a knitter.

We unravel ourselves to be able to make use of ourselves for purposes that are not always our own. I am certain that is where my anxiety comes from. The traumas I dealt with were in trying to bend myself to others so that I could survive their schemes and then to avoid them alltogether. It is exhausting. One can never know another well enough to predict how they will approach interactions with one's Self. When you try to live in 100% subjugation to others then you can not live with yourself. This is where we break down I think. This is where our brain's chemistry changes and mental illness sets in. And this is where knowing yourself and being grounded in yourself helps.

Once and done
Our consumer life is constructed around fast and easy. So anything that requires maintenance is a chore. As a chore, the kinds of things that we do to take care of ourselves is drudgery and something to be avoided. When I participated in Christian settings getting people to pray daily became increasingly difficult. Pray once and be done. Set your problems at the foot of the cross one day and never worry over it again. It is the same in the New Age world. Consumers do not like maintenance unless it can be farmed out for someone else to service. Once and done does not work with Grounding.

You have to do it regularly. It is like taking a shower. And if you are a water person that might be the perfect place to do so. As with showers or eating, grounding should be done daily. As we deliberately sit down to pay bills or balance check books, it has to be done deliberately as well. I could go outside and sit on the porch and soak up the sun. It is quick, easy, convenient. But it is also mindless as I make no extra effort. There is no choice to participate in the experience of grounding. Just going outside, walking out the door and plopping down with the cat, is passive. And it is subject to comfort. Or rather, to how easily comfort can be obtained by going three steps back into the house. Planning to go to the beach, driving X number of miles to that beach, then actively interacting with the environment, THAT is what allows the grounding to happen. And in that process of participation when you are actively engaged in the feelings in the process that is where the magic happens. That is where everything that is not the beach, the waves, the rocks, the wind, the sun, the gulls and water fowl, the smells and the company disappears.

All of the senses get involved in the grounding process. Whatever is outside of your location, whatever is inside of your head that does not pertain to the immediate experience, disappears from your awareness. It doesn't make your problems go away. They will be there waiting for you when you get back to them. Grounding makes you strong enough to deal with them. Grounding gives you a much needed break from your hamster wheeling so that you can think clearly and make the best choices you can to resolve issues. When the hamster wheel slows or stops so does my anxiety. And when the anxiety subsides then my blood pressure returns to normal.

crinoid fossil looks like a typesette'rs case for Morse Code
spilled on to the floor. It is a mix of dots & dashes that used
to be living things cemented in  Paleozoic sediment

I grounded well this week knowing that this trip was going to bring up issues. There are a lot of confusing emotions right now. The past wants healing, the present wants resolution as well as to be enjoyed as it is. The future wishes to remain a mystery. And I wish to be the most authentic Self that I can be without the guilt I felt in the past. And that is where all of the garbage that presents itself as mental illness begins. The Past.

Perhaps then it is no small surprise to me that I am finding these kinds of fossils highly collectible and significant in my grounding rituals. Look at all the little bits. The rings of white are the arms and stems of corals that lived millions of years ago. The long rectangular bits are the same, only sliced in a side view. Each white spot in the black stone is part of a once living thing, individual living things frozen in time. They are the broken bits that remain after glaciers plowed through inland seas and bedrock. Unsuspecting creatures with no idea what was happening let alone aware of potential immortality... just not in a shape they might have envisioned if they were capable of such imagination.

My grounding leads me to collect a record of the past. If I look at where and when my feet were most firmly planted it is in the times that I did not waiver from my path or deny who I was. People couldn't make me nuts. Angry yes. Frustrated by cruelty yes. But nuts? No. They could not make me that. I did not suffer anxiety then. I was grounded, rooted in an immutable state of being.

And I think that is where I have to begin to take control of and heal the depression and anxiety. I have hope that it is possible.

Destination: Mighty Mac part four

Otherwise known as Hitchcock's The Birds Live Action.

the flock comes ashore

After tooling around downtown and Mackinac Crossings, it was time to do what I came north to do: Photograph the Bridge. Now due to the earth's curvature and sundry aspects of physics, it is not necessarily true that the closer you get to the bridge the bigger it is. The bigger it is the better it fits in the shot because details. I know this because we thought that driving the waterfront toward the bridge would let me get those gorgeous up close shots I see everyone else get. My thought was that if the bridge can loom so big and close over the tree tops when we are three miles away that being on the shore would make it bigger. In theory, art theory that is, this is true. In reality it is not.

Mackinac City's shoreline is dotted with public parks tucked between private homes. By my estimation they plop a park after every third of fourth house. The first park we stopped at was in poor relation to the bridge. It looked twenty miles away. With the haze of the afternoon fog it was hard to get details from so far away. So we hopped from one park to the next until we found one that would let me get the shots that I wanted. And that was Alexander Henry Park.

Alexander Henry, American born, friendly with many types of people from the Ojibwe of Michigan to the wealthy industrialists of the time, established secure trade with the French Canadians in the Great Lakes endeavors at Fort Michilimackinac after having supplied the British during the French & Indian War. Despite previous alliance with the British against native tribes, he became a part of the local culture when Wawatam adopted him as a brother. A series of misadventures among the less forgiving Ojibwe, which required Wawatam's intercession, carried him from one end of Michigan's Lower peninsula to the other along the Huron shoreline. In the end he returned to Fort Michilimackinac before setting off for the Lake Superior and Sasketchawan territories to challenge trade routes of the Hudson Bay Company. Following his trading and mapping forrays into the Northwest Terrtories, he travelled to England to offer proposals to the very company which he had challenged in the wilds of North America. From Britain to France in the court of Marie-Antoinette where he met with his first immutable failure to win favor and back to the American North he set out to develop trade with China and seek an overland route to the Pacific.

The overland endeavor never reached fruition under Henry. However, he did manage to engage JJ Astor in the northwest trade. Together with an association of other traders the North West Company did manage to establish trade with China. So encouraged by this success, Henry then set his sites on the American Interior, speculating in land deals with the Indian tribes the Ohio region. The deal along the Cuyahoga fell through when the Indians refused to acknowledge land deeds held by Henry's company. He settled in Montreal, engaging in militia and societal concerns, until his death in 1824. During this time he had written his memoirs which are heralded as the most comprehensive and accurate account of indigenous life in the region.

Alexander Henry is memorialized in Alexander Henry Park with a bronze likeness at the park's handicap accessible entrance. Henry was one of those affable people who found friendship and forgiveness easy to come by as the fortunes he amassed for himself and his partners in the fur trade with notably few exceptions. Fort Michilimackinac's success as a trading post, establishing a local community at the Straits of Mackinaw, undoubtedly belongs to Henry's personality and tenacity. The park is located just down the shore from Colonial Michilimackinac at the tip of lower Michigan at the bridge approach. This location provides one of the best shooting locations.

And one of the most populated. As I made my way to shore I noticed the was quite a large flock of Canadian Geese in the water. Assuming they were content to stay in the water at a safe distance I happily busied myself with photography. Seagulls rode the thermals, catching air  the way that pro surfers catch waves in an aerial dance that enthralls. Their graceful aeronautics hypnotize one into forgetting for a time that they are little more than flying garbage trucks, aggressive flying garbage trucks. Then they land and all of the magic and allure of flight is gone. But for a time one suspends prejudice for pure joy.

I like to have living beings in my photos. The action is a more dynamic image than static landscapes, living beings in pictures make it easier to engage the image as yourself rather than remaining a passive bystander. Seagulls, ubiquitous as they are, can not avoid the lens. And of course the geese can't help but take their place in the spot light. As I busily shot pictures after picture, the gaggle came ashore. As I had noted only about 16 birds and just a few wandered into view, I did not worry at all. 16 geese on a feeding mission in the surf are hardly a threat despite their ferocious and intrepid reputation. So I kept shooting. These were good shots with a lot of action. But still not THEE Mighty Mac shot I was looking for.

This is closer. It reminds me of so many Golden Gate shots out of San Francisco tourism brochures. Waves and gulls make a dynamic shot and it is well balanced. These northern gulls are more cooperative that the ones down home. I think the ones down home are more interested in sticking close to land where feeding is easier. At the bridge there are few fast food restaurants at which to dumpster dive. Of course I could be anthropomorphizing.

As usual, it took me a few tries to get the panorama that I was looking for.

This at least has the cove to anchor the shot on the left so that the bridge doesn't look like it comes out of no where. I just had hoped for more bridge detail. You can see here what I mean about curvature and physics and junk. We are not that far from the bridge but it is so much farther away in perception than the uprights were coming up I-75.

I probably spent a half an hour taking pictures. When sunset reduced my visibility and I turned to leave I froze in my tracks. Those 16 geese that I saw had turned into 30. And they all came ashore. A few of the protective males snaked their heads in my direction so I avoided getting closer or getting in their faces while they were on the shore. But when I turned to go back up the sidewalk, my way was blocked by a dozen of the adult geese. I didn't get a picture of this sight because I was terrified to move. The dozen adults had surrounded me on three sides and stood less than 10 feet from me. While that is disconcerting enough given their aforementioned reputation, those who surrounded me stood frozen in an identical stance... left foot firmly planted, weight thrown forward, necks twisted toward me and the right foot raised. They were ninjas in a crane position. And I am no Karate Kid.

I might have peed a little. I did back up four steps while they remained frozen. Slowly, I capped my lens, and stepped sideways up the small dune through a swarm of black flies and through the grass toward the maritime detritus posing as park sculpture. Once I hit the shade and assured myself that they did not follow me, I beat feet for the car. The only thing more terrifying than a dozen ninja geese posed to strike would be a knot of vipers randomly associated in the middle of  our driveway at home.

As I lived to tell this tale with all of my pieces and parts intact there seems little that should have worried me. However, I did make the mistake of watching Hitchcock's the Birds. And as Canadian Geese are the only thing viscous about Canada, to err on the side of caution is the divine rite of those with Vulcan sensibilities. Thus... we require less rescuing than our very human friends.

The trip home was rather uneventful even with the car tossing winds. Those winds had kept us from crossing the bridge so we will make this trip again. I think we will go closer to the fall to get the colors. And the next trip will have waterfalls. And maybe allow me to meet up with my U.P friends to add to the adventure. Of course if it rains that means out adventures will be limited to a Starbucks or local coffee shop for a day.

Day Trip: Manistee River

So one of my friends decided that the Holiday weekend, which coincides with the start of the National Cherry Festival, would be perfect for a canoe trip. Being local born and bred and considerably less enthusiastic for festivals than we once were in our youth, getting out of town is preferred. So we set our sites on one of the rivers outside of town. The Boardman, which empties into Boardman Lake in the middle of town, is a bit too close to all of the activities surrounding Cherry Festival.

The Platte which begins in Grand Traverse County, into Manistee through Benzie County and meets Lake Michigan near Frankfort, is too docile for my adventure partner. Granted, I was not enthusiastic about having to paddle across Crystal Lake. That leaves us with the Manistee. The Manistee begins in Antrim County and runs 190 miles through Kalkaska, a tiny bit of Missaukee, Grand Traverse & Wexford counties, and Manistee county where it comes out in the city of Manistee. We traveled 18 of those 190 miles on Saturday.

still water at the landing

We rented from Chippewa Landing. Our guide drove us up to Rainbow Jim Bridge to "put in". I didn't get his name, and for that I am sorry because he was fun to talk to. He kept everyone talking which was quite entertaining and informative. The bridge where we put in is named for the first river guide on the Manistee, Jim Coster. Rainbow Jim got his nickname from the type of fish he was most adept at catching, Rainbow Trout. The brochure lists this as a 5 hour trip. Our guide promised that we would have the river mostly to ourselves as we were out early. We did the trip in 4 as we did have a few groups to go around.

The scenery on the Manistee is astounding. I had decided not to look up the river's particular's before hand because I wanted to be surprised. And the Summer of Sherry is also about getting back to trusting people. With my anxiety issues that is hard to wrap my head around. Determined to let the few friends that I have lead once in awhile instead of being in control, I decided to let it roll. And I am glad that I did. I had no idea that we would find ourselves drifting through passages lined with towering sand dunes. There were a few places it felt like being in an Indiana Jones movie. It was amazing! I can not say that enough. UH-MAZE-ING!!!!

A few small rivers and creeks empty into the Manistee along the way. In the mouth of one of the larger ones I stopped to look at rocks. I stopped really to take a break from my anxiety. I have to be honest, trusting some one else to steer is harder than I imagined. I was so paranoid about tipping that any disturbance in the canoe shattered my nerves. So my squirmy adventurer's bug swatting wracked my nerves. Additionaly, that hamstring became painful. The seat cut right at the tear in the butt cheek and the shallow seats didn't help the shortened hammie at all. The best benefit of getting out in the creek mouth was a deal of rock hunting. That river was quite cold though so I couldn't stay in long. And I didn't need to. I found a few great pieces of olivine.

top right, a shallow dune on a bend, middle, me looking for rocks in a clay bed, left, glassy bend in the river
bottom, a wide view with dune on the left and a Bob Ross selection of vegetation center.

The pictures that I have are stunning. I was too nervous to man the camera on this trip. Most of these were taken by my travel buddy and he just couldn't get the tallest dunes in photos. So as stunning as these are... this is really nothing compared to what it was like in person. Imagine coming around one of those bends and meeting a 4 story wall of sand.

Why doesn't it all wash down the river? How do the sands stay put? Wikipedia says that glaciers cut these rivers. As we all know that water always wins, I have to wonder how it is that the banks stay. Do the trees and grasses keep them still? There were several places where the base of the sands were clay and water ran like falls from only a foot above water level. How do they survive the currents?

We had a lot of company on the trip; cedar wax wings, ducks, jays, some kind of king fisher, cliff swallows, and eagle and even a bat. Yep, little brown bat obviously didn't know what was about as it was about 1 in the afternoon when he flew overhead. There weren't any land creatures visible even though we heard them crashing in the underbrush. Maybe next time we will see more. And maybe next time I will be comfortable enough to take my own camera.

One of the Manistee's features is in its assumed Ojibwe name of "ministigweyaa". According to Wikipedia the name means river with islands at its mouth. I don't know if there are island in the city of Manistee where the river empties into the big lake. But I do know that there are islands throughout the river. We were nearly stymied by two that we came upon. The smaller one seemed most likely a beaver construction made from much of the fallen trees along the way. The second was definitely an island. The right hand channel was completely blocked by debris. It proved quite an interesting part of the adventure. A good many trees have fallen in the last year after a few storms went through. That does make for interesting traveling.

All in all it was a good trip. I am looking forward to going again but being a bit more relaxed the next time out.

Destination: Mighty Mac Part Three

first siting from I-75

Michigan's most famous and photographed bridge spans the Straits of Mackinac with a 5 mile stretch between Mackinaw City and Saint Ignace. Between the two peninsula's of the State of Michigan the water reaches a depth of 295 feet under the middle of the bridge. It took 350 engineers to design and implement the exhilarating and terrifying venue outside of a theme park.

It is marvelous to behold. Unlike San Francisco's red giant, the Golden Gate, it doesn't stand out immediately. The approach on I-75 is shrouded with trees and the first glimpse is as thrilling as seeing Modor for the first time. From the Upper Peninsula side the view is a bit muddled with mechanical surroundings. Which, if you've never been there but always wondered why the tourism industry uses shots from one side only... that would be the answer. Normally it is a sea green color which makes its rise above the shades of blue between sky and water even more dramatic. More dramatic still if you can see it on a clear day with less haze. Never the less, it is a breath catching thing to see rise above thirty shades of green.

It is terrifying to cross. I am afraid of heights. I am afraid of other drivers. When the winds kick up across the straits just right it is dire. Only a few cars have gone over the railing, mostly due to inclement conditions and inexperience. One would be enough to make the crossing a journey of inner conflict. Should I? Shouldn't I? In high winds with zero visibility the answer is I shouldn't. Commercial vehicles and those with high profiles are escorted across in rough weather. Others are encouraged to stay off the bridge. Nothing, including Winter Break is worth the chance of death. However, I have been in a car full of Northern students at Winter Break when we should not have been on US 2 (Upper Peninsula) let alone the bridge and have lived to tell the tale. 

As with all things, curiosity tempered with caution and a bit of wisdom gets everyone back home alive. And somehow, in this less than intrepid adventurer, the desire to visit grows each time. Initial crossing were nerve wracking. The more one crosses the less one fears. Which means at some point one begins to take the thing for granted. The day we were here the winds were high and we were fighting the car to stay on the highway before we ever got to the bridge. As the main goal was to acquire the fabulously well kept secret of Michigan smoked fish from the straits, we stayed on the south side and toured the small town of Mackinaw City. 

It isn't a very big town at all for the amount of tourist traffic it handles in the Summer months. We went midweek and the place was nearly deserted. Downtown Mackinaw City has preserved much of its Victorian era charm. New construction tries to keep in step with the old. But sometimes someone gets a little crazy as with the Starbucks. Mackinaw City sits on the site of the Fort Michilimackinac. Originally a French outpost and trading post for the French-Canadian trade system, it changed hands with the British and then was abandoned in 1783. Fort Michilimackinac was a collection of low wooden structures. The Starbucks building seems to pay homage to the early fort's history. For my money, probably would have made a better fort due to the three stories and windows.

Fort Michilimackinac was attacked by native Ojibwe in a trojan horse maneuver that resulted in the fort's move to Mackinac Island. I think that it the buildings had been taller than the walls they might have seen this coming. Then again... 

Very little Native American culture remains anywhere here in the state outside of kitschy tributes. Baubles and doo-dads in the gift shops, a painted carved cigar store Indian, a few murals and some handmade baskets that might actually be made in China, are what this amazing culture has been reduced to. There are Fort reenactments to celebrate the French & British history during the Summer months. Nothing about the Tribes holding Pow-wows has hit my radar. When you are walking through Mackinaw City, you don't really think about these things until you get to Mackinac Crossings. 

left, Mackinaw Crossings entrance, right top and bottom, Victorian era architecture, Middle left, window display,
top center, outdoor display, bottom right, purple store front, middle bottom, sculpture from the park in the quad. 

The entrance to the mall which has recently been constructed in Mackinaw City reflects a style called Up North. The bears to each side of the bench are the most reflective of the original culture that I saw all day there. How so? Because the black bear are the main character in the Legend of the Sleeping Bear, a major source of local identity for State Parks, residents along the Michigan shoreline and the tourism industry. Outside of the occasional use of a stylized feather and native blanket patterns little attention is given to Michigan's first people. When I was a kid Native culture was everywhere. Granted, being the subject of roadside hucksterism isn't the most flattering way to be remembered, at least there was a presence that made kids my age ask questions. Now they are reduced to tribal casinos. I don't see that as a step in the right direction.  The Up North style, rustic and stylized, is evident here in the signage. But once you walk into the mall itself, it is 100% Americana nostalgia and consumerism. 

Yeah, this got maudlin rather quickly. Most consumers are going to go and be all excited about the shops. And I was as well, that ferris wheel window display moves! There are shops for little engineering types, nerds, ren-faire fans in addition to food vendors and a movie theater. But somewhere in all of the excitement of finding Doctor Who and Star Trek gear, I couldn't get passed the feeling that there is more to the city than blatant consumerism. The comparison to Cedar Point's Victorian shopping mall in the middle of the theme park when I was there in 1988 didn't help. Once I realized where the facade was, the spirits came in. 

Mackinaw City sits on battle grounds; battles between the indigenous and the foreigner, battles between man and nature, and battles between economic hope and ruin. And when you walk through town unguarded, the past creeps into your blood. Mackinac City is haunted. Unlike the movie ghosts with the wailing and gnashing, clawing and crashing, the souls who haunt this city, native and foreign alike, wonder around wondering about the future. Under all of the color and energetic commerce, I felt the constant questioning. It was hard place for me to enjoy as I bounced between excitement and reflection. 

top, gorgeous signage. bottom left, Starbucks again, middle, cupcake frosting flavored ice cream from the Sweetshop,
bottom right, another view of the bridge from on of the city parks. 

The shops are pretty typical of any small town that serves its citizens well. The number of stores selling logo wear reflects the tourist side of life. If you can shield yourself from the clingy despair of citizens past this is going to be an enjoyable stop on your way north. Once we were further from the center of town, out in the coastal parks down by the ferries, I enjoyed myself much more. With the winds high as they were we ate lunch in the car in one of the parks. And I was able to go out and see some of the shore life up close. 

This gaggle caught my eye. As I was making the attempt to photograph them performing some of their antics, I found myself being buzzed by what was either a Cliff or a Barn Swallow. It had a bright cinnamon underbelly and the top was the color of violas. Its flight pattern resembled a bat. It was fast and hard to catch. Once he took notice of me, three more came in for a look see. I was the only human out near the water's edge so I must have been something of a novelty.

These gees paid me little mind and in fact, seemed to behave as if the camera was a bit intrusive. I may not have caught them diving for fish or performing that weird neck ballet thing that they do but I got them swimming in their flight pattern. Once they were on the move, the three that I stalked had turned into a dozen and a half. I do wonder though, how does one tell the male from the female? 

Once these geeese were stalked it was time to stalk the Mighty Mac. 

Out to the Big Lake Again

The second trek to Lake Michigan brought in quite a haul of small stones and only a handful of big ones. I seemed to be doing pretty well with the fossils. Among the best finds: favosites and some crinoids.

Translucent stones are easy to find in the water what with the ghostly shine and all. The granite shines as well and is easy to pick out. I think the only value is as eye candy. And boy do they look a lot like jelly beans!

As ever, we each got quite a load of Leland Blue. This haul yielded mostly the green and purple. The blues and bright aqua colors came up but only in bits too small to do anything with.

But there were treasures still... that teardrop in the photo is gorgeous. And I found a larger piece with the same sea green mottle. Stunning pieces really.

This mixed bag is just a sample of the kinds of things that one finds on these excursions. Mostly, blue chert. And I think that I may have found a variety of green chert. I'll need to get an analysis to know for sure.

In this bunch there may be a chunk of phrenite, possibly some green jasper.

And here we have another great sample, in a concentrate with one heck of a cool agate in the mix. This kind of agate is rare according my rock hound roomie.

Just imagine a jar of these on the mantle!

Destination: Mighty Mac Part Two

The Tunnel of Trees' official designation is Michigan Highway 119, or M119. It snakes along the Lake Michigan coastline from the city of Petosky around Little Traverse Bay and through the quaint and bustling village of Harbor Springs to Cross Village. This was the second leg of our Mighty Mac trip. As we were on a mission we did not spend time in either Petosky or Harbor Springs. Petosky was a post two Summers ago and Harbor no longer has my favorite coffee shop so we did not stop. Harbor is a better Fall or Early Spring trip anyway. Too much traffic on this stop to oggle things. So we cruised through downtown to get to our real destination... the Tunnel.

Left bar: M119 literally snakes along the coast, taking this section at high speed is ludacris, Top row: the flock, cement plant in the distance, the barns of the sheep farm, Middle left and right: a variety of canopy density, Top Right:imitating the tropics, bottom: Good Hart General Store, Good Hart Post Office and another S-curve.

You can see from the photo collage that it is aptly, if somewhat unimaginatively, named. Over twenty miles of woodlands with intertwined canopy along twisting roads beckons the daytripper. When you pass the country club it won't be long before you come upon one of the most bucolic scenes that will take you breath away. None of us expected to find an operational sheep farm. This farm's rolling pastures sits atop an upper cliff dotted with deciduous and coniferous groves overlooking Little Traverse Bay. In the far distance, through the early afternoon haze the Charlevoix cement factory sits like a strange lighthouse.

I could have sat here all day. The road in this section is lined with thick banks of vetch and the view is just stunning. But this is just the beginning of the trip, there are still many miles of tunnel til the end. And it is an amazing drive. For the most part, the woodland is as dense as any forest, allowing one to imagine to be just about anywhere. It is quiet easy to imagine what it must have been like in Northern Michigan before the lumberman came and sheared the hills bare. For much of the stretch there are very few houses and it is even easier in these places to imagine what the Native Tribes saw as they lived here day to day for generations. That gets a bit depressing when one things on how the European Immigrants usurped the indigenous people.

As we drove through here I was lost in thought as to how similar this forest is to the pictures I have seen of the German forests. Though I doubt that these trees have regrown sufficiently to mimic the giants of the German forests which inspire tales of dread and caution or could be the muses behind Tolkein's Ents. Groot maybe, but not the Ents. I do imagine that when my immigrant ancestors came they thought of their homes in the Schwartzwald, Grunewald, Thüringer Wald and the Odenwald of lore. A more apt name for this forested area here would be Gleichenwald: similar to the German forest. But then we would have to change a lot of signs and maps.

The Tunnel of Trees Heritage Trail, as it is formally called, follows the Lake Michigan shoreline closely. It isn't all wonders and imagination however. A sharp bend at Terpenning Road, known colloquially as The Devil's Elbow,  is a treacherous curve that begins M119's close association with the coast line. This is not at all a road to drive at great speeds. Doing so may cause you to have a closer association with a hulking oak than you would like. The road sits atop the edge of the bluffs overlooking the big lake some 100-280 feet below the road. While it is impossible to see Lake Michigan for much of the 20 miles, there is a stretch after the Elbow beyond imagining.

At the height of the bluffs, where the boundary between road and water is thin, the trees break to reveal stunning water vistas. You see a glimpse of such in the collage above. While this area is lined with residential homes and it is considered rude to stop and spend a day in someone's private park. There should be little harm in standing on the shoulder for photos. From this section one could imagine oneself in Greece or on some tropical isle. Lake Michigan stretches far out to the sapphire horizon, reinforcing its inland sea image. From this vantage point it is difficult to guess the terrain of the cliff face or how deep the beach at the bottom might be. There may be no beach at all.

It is somewhere along this passage that my housemate supposed actor Viggo Mortenson spent a Summer taking pictures and restoring an old cottage. She has lots of sidebar information in her head about stuff like that. And this was a really good trip for having conversations about nothing that were also not about crappy somethings and sad somethings that we can not change. Even in a car the natural beauty of our countryside and distant wilds has a calming effect. The mind wanders around the things we are curious about and not so much the things that we worry about. It could be the deep and lush greens of the canopy and the ground vegetation or it could be the vibrant jeweled blues of the water that calms. Which ever it is, whatever the combination of influences is, we need it. Nature heals the senses which I believe can calm a weary mind. Even in a car, whizzing along at 40 miles an hour.

After Horseshoe Bend we plunge into darkness again. The canopy becomes dense with some of the deepest shades of green imaginable. The temperature is a little cooler here too. On the day we were here, there were enough differing shades of green to make an Irishman smile. Almost no traffic that day either so having the road mostly to ourselves we didn't worry about getting pushed by tailgaters or squished by oncoming traffic.

Fewer homes sit in the dense forest. Fewer mailboxes mar pictures. And the conversation flows along meandering tangents until animals cross our paths. While it was the wrong time of day to see deer, there were a good many birds playing chicken with the car. The dappled light is soothing enough to make for some sleepy backseat passengers.

The road continues on like this until you get to the sleepy little town of Good Hart, the half way point on this long and winding road. Good Hart is a small place consisting of a General Store and Post Office maintained in picture postcard perfection. It is a great place for a potty break and to grab a bite to eat if you haven't packed a lunch like we did. The General Store stocks it's own specialty foods on the shelf as well as the expected standbys and has a deli. While we did not partake of the deli offerings, the homemade cookies near the register made mouths water. We were back on the trail once we refreshed ourselves.

The stretch between Good Hart and Cross Village begins to diversify with some sandy dunes breaking into the forest. The road becomes much more difficult to traverse as potholes and crumbling shoulders make for interesting conditions. M119 does not have a center yellow line down its middle as other state roads do and the fog line, the white line on the side, is worn. There is very little reason to travel this road at night and I wouldn't suggest trying. Even though it is a perfect Dark Sky site, the canopy is so thick over much of the road that you wouldn't really be able to see stars. This stretch also reminds me of the Pierce Stocking Drive in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Forest on Leelanau Peninsula. The coast bluffs and the winds that rise from it probably have a lot to do with that as it makes difficult living conditions for all but the most hardy of species.

Cross Village bursts out of nowhere. The topography and vegetation give little warning that you are about to come to a village. You are in the trees and then you are in the village. Cross Village is much larger than Good Hart, It boasts a couple of successful restaurants, church, a couple of retailers and a public park. It is here in the public park that I found one of my bears. One side of the bear is a map of the Heritage Trail area and the other depicts Native American life along the lake shore here.

Sometime we will go again to sample the food here. People drive hundreds of miles to eat at the Legs Inn and I would like to taste what I am missing.

The Tunnel of Trees ends here in Cross Village. You have the option of going east to join US 31 and get back to civilization or continuing north. We opted for the northern route, erroneously thinking that we might get to the bridge along the entire tip of the mit*.Somewhere north of Cross Village the Wilderness State Park's 10,000+ acres is in the way. You have to veer east to the tiny one building town of Bliss to continue northward. Along the way there is more rolling farm land, some wetlands, a few more dunes, and some picturesque farms. Emmet county has very little flat surface to it. The whole thing is like a rollercoaster. No wonder my cousins enjoyed it so much.

We did get a bit turned around and were helped by a friendly FedEx driver. But once we were on our way it was smooth going into Mackinaw City.

*Tip of the Mit is the local vernacular for the region of Northern Lower Michigan encompassing Antrim, Otsego, Monmorency, Alpena, Emmet, Cheboygan and Presque Isle counties. They are the northern most counties of northern lower Michigan which is notable for its mitten shape.