Late June, 2009 - We left the chilly northern reaches of Michigan's Upper
Peninsula and the Soo Locks to travel down the Lake Huron coast on
the eastern shores of Michigan. Lake Huron is the second largest of the
great lakes, and it didn't take us long to find a beautiful spot: Forty Mile
Point Lighthouse. Built in 1896, it was one of a chain of lighthouses that
guided the many merchant ships through these difficult waters.
Originally named La Mer Douce (the sweet, or freshwater, sea) by
French explorers, the sweet sea of Lake Huron has displayed a
mean streak when it comes to deadly storms. As of 2006, 1,200
shipwrecks had been recorded in these waters.
Looking out on the placid turquoise waters, fringed with tall, swaying
grasses, it was hard to imagine such violent storms and frightening
wrecks. The water was very shallow in front of the lighthouse. Looking
closely, we could see fish jumping in the shallows between the rocks.
Forty Mile Point Lighthouse park features the pilothouse from the
freighter Calcite. You can climb around it and peek in the windows
at the huge ship's wheel.
There is also a flat bottomed skiff similar to the ones that are built by
students at the Great Lakes Boat Building School.
We wandered up to the
lighthouse and admired
another bunch of lilacs yet
again. Just can't get enough
of these flowers!
Inside we found the kitchen was set up as it
would have been when the lighthouse keepers
lived here and tended the light: simple, rustic
living. Down in the basement was a fun display
of old washing machines.
We climbed up the circular steel staircase to the cramped space that houses
the French-built Fresnel lens, and looked out at the peaceful view. A guide
came up after us and told us the most amazing story of the wreck of the
freighter Fay in October, 1905.
At the time, the Fay was a 34-year-
old and rather battered wooden
ship. She was towing a wooden
barge, the Rhodes, that night,
southbound along the coast. The
winds unexpectedly built to
hurricane force and shifted
onshore, pushing the Fay towards land. As the captain turned the ship towards safer,
deeper water, the tow line snapped taut, and the barge suddenly ripped the back end
off the ship and floated free. The ship's captain desperately turned the remains of the
sinking ship back towards shore, and miraculously the pilot house was swept up onto
the beach intact with all but two officers safe inside (one man even slept through the
whole ordeal). Despite all the drama that night, including the drowning of the first mate
who was on deck when the back end of the Fay was torn off, the 40 Mile Point
Lighthouse keeper noted the shipwreck with just a brief one-line entry in his logbook.
The rest of the Fay landed on the beach a short
distance from the lighthouse. 130 feet of its starboard
side is still embedded in the sand, the heavy wooden
planks and steel spikes that held it together still plainly
visible. We walked around it in wonder. 27 wooden
ships and 50 lives were lost in that one storm. 104
years and many other vicious storms have passed
since then.
The lake is lower now than in
past years. Old photos show
waves lapping over the hull as it
sat in shallow water. I don't
know whether lapping waves or
hot sun, wind and snow erode
wooden shipwreck remains
faster, but I'm sure in another
100 years very little will be left
of this hull on the beach.
Continuing down the coast, we stopped at Rogers City
where we found yet another lovely waterfront city park.
There are so many wonderful public parks in Michigan
where you can enjoy the lakes.
Many miles further south we
discovered East Tawas where there
was a fantastic RV park that hugged
the shoreline.
A string of RVs was backed up
to the beach, and there was a
party atmosphere in the air.
The folks who got the prime
spots along the beach had set
themselves up for a season's
stay, building elaborate
stairways and decks off their
RVs. Beach umbrellas, bikes
and happy visiting grandkids
were the theme of this RV park.
We continued south to Bay City, situated on Saginaw Bay in the nook of
Lake Huron that forms the base of Michigan's thumb. During my stay in
this state I learned that when talking about Michigan geography
everyone whips out their left hand and points to the spot they are
referring to.
We arrived in Bay City on the day of the hydroplane boat races. You
could hear the buzz of their engines long before spotting them on the
river. The racecourse was a simple oval, and the whole town turned
out for the event.
We got a great view from the bridge overlooking the river at one end,
and got a good look at these crazy craft as they periodically left the race
to come into the dock for a pit stop.
We walked
among the
trailers and pit
crews and
watched one
boat come get
launched back
onto the
racecourse after
some quickie
repairs.
The boats were
lined up along
the docks and sent off in waves.
What fun to be right there on the dock when this boat pulled over
and the driver crawled out of the cockpit.
Our last stop in Michigan was
Frankenmuth, a town settled by
German immigrants in 1845 and
redecorated to celebrate this
German heritage in the 1950's.
Touristy, but fun anyways, we got a kick out of walking
around.
A plaque informed us that the Bavarian Inn is one of the ten
largest restaurants in the US and served some 20 million
meals over the century from 1988 to 1998.
The huge restaurants on both sides of the street proudly advertised
their famous chicken dinners.
After some more family gatherings, we headed back to the airport
and jetted back to resume our normal lives in our trailer. We
hopped back in the Luvnest in Valencia, California and made a
beeline for San Diego, arriving just in time for their huge Mission
Bay July 4th bash. After a few days there we decided it was time to
start our summer travels for real. We crossed the scorching
California and Nevada deserts and made it to the cool, green
mountains and glittering streams outside Ketchum, Idaho.