Stanley Lake
Creek near Stanley Lake
Stanley Lake
Camping at Stanley Lake
Scenery near Stanley.
Sawtooth Mountains.
Sawtooth Luce's.
Homes perched on the hills in Stanley
Redfish Lake
Redfish Lake
Beach at Redfish Lodge
Ghosting along on Redfish Lake
Private boat-in campsite on Redfish Lake
Salmon Festival in Stanley
Namesake for Redfish Lake
Cattle enjoy a nice view.
Sawtooth Mountains near Stanley.
"Ahhh" moment as we walk towards Stanley Lake.
Sunrise on our final morning
Salmon River
Drive along the Salmon River
Stanley, Idaho
Late August, 2009 - We drove
north from Ketchum/Sun
Valley to Stanley Idaho along
As with Indiana's Amish
Heritage Trail that we had
recently driven, we discovered
the tourism folks of central
Idaho have created a series of
CDs to accompany the
beautiful scenic drives through
their state. Complete with mile
marker indicators, music and
driving instructions, the
recording was expertly made and we enjoyed having a tour guide right there in the truck with
us. We learned tidbits about the mining history, Indian history and geology of the area, and
the CD recommended some excellent stops at scenic viewpoint along the way.
Stanley is a tiny hamlet with just 40 year-round residents, although the population soars to
300 each summer. It is frequently the coldest place in the continental US in the wintertime, but in summer the days are hot. We
rode our bikes to Stanley Lake and found crystal clear water sleepily lapping the shores of towering mountains.
We returned with the kayak and spent a blissful morning drifting across
the mirrored reflections of the rugged peaks. As we floated into the cool
shade under the thick pines on the far side of the lake, we felt intoxicated
by their heady, pungent scent. We laid back and lazily watched the
rainbow trout jumping for moths. Each foolish bug would flirt with the
water's surface until his wings got wet, and then he'd start a spinning
death spiral that ended with the gulp of a fish.
There is a
campground
and several
hiking trails
around Stanley
Lake as well.
We made a few trips to the lake
over the next week, each time
enjoying that burst of "ahhh" as
the trees parted and the lake
came into view.
It seemed like a perfect spot to
bring the family for a week of
camping. The sites are
perched right on the water's
edge and there are endless
activities to keep kids amused
along the shore.
The early mornings were cold
and quiet, but as each day
wore on and the sun flooded
the shore, the sounds of kids
voices carried across the
water.
The Sawtooth Mountains line the horizon like the cutting edge of
a saw blade, and everywhere we turned their snowcapped tops
formed a backdrop. Stanley sits at the intersection of three of
Idaho's official "scenic highways," and there are viewpoint pullouts
and photo-op spots all over town.
One afternoon we got a pizza at Sawtooth Luce's. This little log cabin
eaterie has been in the same family for several generations, and our
waiter proudly announced that three weeks earlier the owners had just
given Stanley its first locally born baby in 30 years.
We took the kayak to Redfish Lake, another
expanse of clear, turquoise water set against a
wide mural of the Rockies. The water was
cool, but so inviting, with every rock and fallen
log clearly visible many feet below the surface.
There were several beaches, some accessible
by car and others, we later learned, accessible
only by boat. The sand on every beach was
wonderfully white.
We cast about for a while to find a good launching spot and settled
on the beach by Redfish Lodge. This is a fun and busy place.
There are cabins, a lodge, a camp store, boat rentals, a marina
with slips and moorings for powerboats and sailboats alike, and a
white sand beach loaded with families. It is an ideal swimming
area, as the water is shallow for a long distance, keeping it
somewhat warm. We quickly inflated the kayak and cast off.
It didn't take long for the playful voices from the beach to fade into
the distance as we pedaled our way along one shore. There was
a point in the distance that lured us, tantalizing us with images of
what might lie beyond. The crests of a few jagged peaks poked
above the nearby trees, promising a dramatic view once we
rounded the point. It seemed like we would never get there, but
suddenly the point swung wide, like a door opening to another
land, and we found ourselves in an emerald green pool of
shallows at the feet of two majestic mountains.
Many evergreen
trees along the
shore were red.
They were going
through their
death throes as
beetles invaded
the tender flesh under their bark. This made for interesting colors among the
trees, but was disconcerting in a forest that should be solid deep green. From a
distance much of the forest high up on the ridge was grey, as many trees had
already succumbed to the armies of invading pests. In places it seemed just one
in ten trees was wearing its intended green hue.
We found a perfect spot to land for a shore-side snack. It was actually a boat-in campsite,
complete with a fire ring, a wood pile left by a previous camper, and a table. A tiny beach
stretched along the shore,
and a large rock sat out a
ways in the lake. Mark was
tempted to go swimming,
but he didn't want to be
soggy wet and cold for the
return trip. So he settled
for wading out towards the
big rock, carefully hiking his
shorts up higher and higher
as he went. He stepped
gingerly from one submerged rock to another, leap-frogging
towards the big boulder. Just as it looked like he'd made it to the rock
island, his foot slipped on some algae and he doused himself thoroughly.
Oh well, so much for staying dry.
After kayaking a little further we turned around, leaving the dramatic
rocky horizon behind us. Before long, the sounds of kids playing in
the water at Redfish Lodge pierced our little oasis of silence, and
we paddled our way back into the hustle and bustle of a hot
summer day at the beach. Kids licking ice cream cones, parents sipping cold beer, and sunbathing teens changing from white to
pink greeted us as we deflated the kayak and folded it back into its bag.
That weekend the town of Stanley hosted the Salmon Festival, a fair
celebrating the local salmon. We knew nothing about salmon when we got
there, other than how to grill it, but by the end of the day we had learned
many amazing things about the life cycle of these intrepid fish. We were
astonished to learn that when 3-year-old salmon make their way from
Stanley down the Salmon River to the Snake River to the Columbia River to
the ocean some 900 miles away, they make a mental note of the smells
along the way so they can sniff their way back home a year or two later,
never making a wrong turn up a wrong tributary. Once home, they flirt with
each other and the females choose their mates. The males quiver
alongside their females, waiting impatiently for them to lay their eggs so
they can be fertilized. Once the seeds for the next generation have been
sown, the parents die.
We had known that salmon fishing
had deteriorated badly in recent
years, but were shocked to learn
that in the decade of the 1990's
only 10 local salmon made it
back to Stanley to spawn, putting
them on the endangered species
list. This year 750 or so are
expected to return, a recovery
attributed to the removal of many
dams along the rivers and
meticulous breeding in
hatcheries. We had known that
river dams impeded salmon
migration, but were stunned to
find out the trouble is during
their trip down to the ocean, not during their return up river to spawn years later. Young
salmon approaching a dam as they swim towards the ocean are guided out of the river to
be loaded onto trucks and barges so they can be taken around the dam and then returned
to the river on the other side where they continue their swim to the ocean. For Stanley
area salmon this happens at four dams on the Snake River and four on the Columbia.
That's a lot of corralling, loading and unloading for a six inch fish that is designed just to
swim with the current to the ocean. Most don't make it. The young are tagged with
microchips before they leave the hatchery so they can be identified upon their return from
the ocean, at which point they have grown to recognizable salmon size. The
microchip tags aid in isolating a few fish for hatchery breeding when they return,
keeping the hatchery DNA pool as wide as possible.
This was a lot to take in and gave us a far greater appreciation for the wild caught
filets we buy at the supermarket. Mulling it all over, we wandered about the town
of Stanley, taking several bike rides along the scenic highways. The views
everywhere were breathtaking.
We went to a lecture at the Stanley
Museum given by a man who had
kayaked the same route that the salmon
take: the Salmon River to the Snake River
to the Columbia River to the ocean. He covered the
distance in 52 days in 2001, experiencing some of the
same hassles the fish do at the dams as he took his
kayak through the lock systems.
Stanley also has a mining history, but we didn't stay long
enough to delve into it too deeply. There are some
intriguing mining relics and ghost towns in the area that
we decided to save for a return trip another year.
We took one last hike out to the far end of Stanley
Lake and breathed in the moist pine scent.
On our final day in the area
the sun cast an orange
glow on the rocky peaks for
a few moments as it rose in
the sky.
Then we started a two-day
trip down the road along the Salmon River, thinking of the salmon and of the kayaker as
we drove. The river was our constant companion as we descended northwards towards
Sun Valley Idaho – Music, History & Celebrities
Ketchum Farmer's Market
Sun Valley outdoor skating rink.
Outdoor restaurant overlooking the skating rink.
A young skater gets some coaching.
Quaint buildings around the Sun Valley resort.
Swans greet visitors to the Sun Valley Lodge
Welcome to Sun Valley
Lodge.
A bright fire crackled in the Lodge's fireplace.
Upstairs brunch was being served.
Arnold in the Austrian Alps of the west.
Figure skating legends Dorothy Hamill and
Charlie Tickner.
Peggy Fleming.
Ore wagon for shuttling ore
and supplies between mining
camps.
One of the Ketchum Fast
Freight ore wagons.
Fog drifts between the mountains.
Rolling mountains surround the town.
What a spot for a summer cabin.
The paved bike path near Elkhorn.
Pre-performance talk at the Sun Valley Pavilion.
Listeners picnic on the lawn outside.
The Sun Valley Symphony Orchestra.
A young concert-goer blows bubbles.
Fairy princesses show us the Wolf.
Pirouettes...
...and curtsies.
The instrument "petting zoo."
Ketchum welcomes all visitors
whether funky or fancy.
Funny statues are everywhere.
Both big kids and little kids paused by
this stuffed bear for a quick hug.
Our stay in Ketchum will always be a highlight among our
travel memories.
Ketchum & Sun Valley, Idaho
August, 2009 - We had been in Ketchum / Sun Valley for several
weeks, but we were enjoying ourselves so much we didn't want to
leave. The town was bustling with activity, and there was always
something going on. We arrived in time for the Farmer's Market one
afternoon, and after eyeing up the beautiful produce, we made our way
over to the Sun Valley Lodge.
I had heard about the summer figure skating at Sun Valley when I was
growing up, and it was a thrill to see the outdoor rink. It is shaded from
the hot sun by a mesh canopy, and it sits across from an open air
outdoor restaurant at the Lodge.
On Saturday nights in summertime there is a full-fledged ice show, and
diners can enjoy a gourmet meal at the cafe's tables while watching
World and Olympic champions perform.
While we were there it was an open public skating session. Kids and
adults of all ages were playing, practicing and having fun. We watched
a few young skaters diligently training with their coaches.
The Sun Valley Lodge complex is spread out over a large area and
includes not just the outdoor ice rink but an indoor one as well. There
are extensive walking paths that wander between quaint buildings and
little shops, taking guests to the Opera House and the Sun Valley
Pavilion where the symphony orchestra performs outdoors every night in
August. We got lost quite a few times and found ourselves going in
circles.
There is a little pond that is home to
several swans. The Lodge itself is a
grand old structure with an elegant
entrance.
Inside the Lodge we found a cozy fire
burning brightly in an inviting living room
just inside the lobby. Upstairs there is a
huge library that overlooks the outdoor
skating rink, as well as an elegant
dining room.
Along the walls there are dozens of
photographs of all the celebrities that
have visited Sun Valley. Averell
Harriman, Sun Valley's founder in 1936,
invited everybody who was Somebody
to be a guest
at his resort.
Hollywood
legends were regulars, and he encouraged artists and writers like Ernest
Hemingway to make this new resort area their home. Many presidents
and their families were photographed out on the slopes.
I was naturally
drawn to the
figure skating
heroines of my
youth: Dorothy
Hamill and Peggy
Fleming. We also
visited the Ski &
Heritage Museum where there are skis of every imaginable type, many
hand-made by miners and ranchers to get around in winter. The museum
showed video clips of 1956 Olympic champions Dick Button and Tenley
Albright at their winning moments. Every famous winter athlete has spent
time in Sun Valley.
Over at the Ore
Wagon museum we
learned that fifty years before Sun Valley was created, Ketchum was a
hotbed of mining activity. "Galena," a
silver-lead ore, was found throughout the
mountains in the area, and the ore was
carried by wagons down to the railroad
trains and smelters in Ketchum.
The Ketchum Fast Freight Line consisted
of many teams of horses, mules and
oxen that pulled these wagons on a 160
mile loop through the rugged mountains,
stopping at the mining camps to deliver
goods and pick up loads of ore. Thirty
wagons were on the road at any one time, and the grades these teams of 14-20
animals climbed were as steep as 12-15%. Once the mining faded, Ketchum
became home to Peruvian sheep herders, and in 1920 was second only to Sydney,
Australia in sheep production.
Today the peaceful valley boasts multi-million dollar celebrity homes on every hillside.
A quick scan of the real estate page lists eye-popping prices that make you wonder
where the regular folks live. Chatting with a caterer and a former maid, I learned that
most ordinary people live in the outlying towns of Hailey and Bellevue. However, the
pretty, light fog that drifts between the mountains around Ketchum/Sun Valley each
morning doesn't know the difference between miners, sheep herders and VIPs.
We took the paved bike path through the Elkhorn area southeast of town and stopped
at Hemingway's memorial, a humble little statue under a tree.
The views all around town are spectacular, and it is easy to imagine an artist finding
his muse in this setting. A group of artists were coming to town to set up easels
outdoors and paint, but our visit had drawn to a close before they arrived.
We did watch Clint Eastwood's movie Pale Rider while we
were in the area, however. The movie was set in the Boulder
Mountains just north of town where
we camped, and we learned that the
movie people built an entire town
back in the hills, shot the movie and
then removed the town once they
were done. It was a classic Clint flick,
where his stone-faced, gritty, lonely
character took on the gang of local
bullies by himself, liberating the
defenseless, harrassed miners who
had been the bullies' easy prey.
It is hard to imagine the size, sounds and smells of the mine and smelter
that dominated the Ketchum landscape in the 1880's. Today there is a
brand new $5 million symphony concert hall, the Sun Valley Pavilion,
where the prestigious Sun Valley Symphony is in residence all summer,
treating the locals and visitors to beautiful (and free) music almost every
night.
We sat outside on the grass with the locals on opening night while
the sponsors of the summer's series got wined and dined inside
the hall with a private concert. The music is piped outside all
around the hall so listeners can picnic in the grass during each
concert if they wish. Humming along to Rodgers and Hammerstein's
best songs, we were hooked. We returned for three more concerts
when the seats inside were free and the music soared.
They offered a Brahms night, and I was torn between that and the
group bike ride up the long climb to Galena Lodge. Why do the best
things always happen at the same time? Brahms won, as I love his'
dark and brooding music, and wanted to hear it live. Mark wasn't
sure about going until I pointed out that one of the pieces they were
performing, the Academic Festival Overture, sets the stage in one of
his all-time favorite movies: Animal House.
One Saturday was Family Day. It
started with a doll parade in the
morning, where every little girl in town
dressed up as a fairy princess, and it
ended with a symphony concert
geared towards kids. We watched
the many fairy princesses prance
around the lawn outside the Pavilion
during the concert.
Some little girls nearby acted out all
the scenes in Peter and the Wolf.
They showed us the cat, the little bird in the tree, the duck
quacking in the pond and, of course, the wolf.
We were treated to some
pirouettes and fancy moves, and
finally a curtsy. The symphony
orchestra had an instrument
"petting zoo" that day where you
could check out the instruments up
close. There was a festive, easy-
going air to everything the
symphony orchestra did.
Before the concerts, you could
attend the final rehearsals for that
evening's performance and listen to
a short lecture about the music to be played that
night. Afterwards, the players and audience
descended on the town. All the stores stayed open
late, and the coffee shops, bistros and even the
grocery store were suddenly flooded with ruffled white
tuxedo shirts, black dress pants and shiny shoes as
the orchestra players mingled with family and friends.
We enjoyed every minute of
our stay in this area. For all
the high-brow music and
fancy homes, there was also a playful side to this town. Sitting
outside a coffee shop one morning, we watched a roller-blader
doing laps around the center of town. He kept a smile on our
faces as he ducked and dodged and swerved in and out of
traffic.
The funny dog statue near the ice cream shop was watching him
too. Even the silly stuffed bear that waited patiently outside the
chocolate shop kept an eye on him.
We had passed a pretty flower-lined fence every day on our way
in and out of town, and it was with a wistful sigh that we got a
final photograph, packed up, and drove north out of town for the
last time, on our way to new sights in Stanley, Idaho.
Related Post about Figure Skating:
A Unique Encounter with Figure Skating Legend Toller Cranston 01/28/15
Related posts from our RV travels to the Sun Valley area:
- Sun Valley, Idaho – A Joyful Return to a Favorite RV Spot! 08/13/22
- Sun Valley Idaho – An RV Traveler’s Delight in Ketchum, ID! 09/16/16
- Sun Valley Idaho – in Trailer Life Magazine! 08/07/15
- Craters of the Moon + Cataclysms from Sun Valley ID to Alpine WY 09/02/14
- The Artsy Side of Sun Valley, ID 08/26/14
- Ice Queens of Sun Valley, ID 08/21/14
- Sun Valley Road Rally – Go Granny Go! 08/16/14
- Sun Valley Idaho – Music, History & Celebrities 08/15/09
- Sun Valley Idaho – RV Camping, Car Racing & Skating Legends 08/06/09
- Sun Valley & Ketchum ID – Beauty & Fun in the Mountains! 07/25/09
Sun Valley Idaho – RV Camping, Car Racing & Skating Legends
We discovered moose are rare here.
Our welcoming committee.
The Harriman Trail.
Soaring mountain views.
We never tired of the view, and it changed constantly.
A storm covered the mountains in a blanket with a
black lining.
The sun shone a spotlight on us for a moment as the
storm gathered steam.
The worst of the storm passed us by in the end.
We awoke to clouds embracing the mountains. When they
cleared the peaks were white.
Sheriff's speedtrap at the Sun Valley Road Rally.
Family Porsche - mom-181, daughter-183, son-188, and dear old dad-186 mph.
Ford GT - Ties for the day's honors at 188 mph.
Young hot racer drove the
crowd wild at 183 mph.
The movie theater shows "Sun Valley Serenade"
every afternoon for free.
The young Norwegian refugee arrives.
Sonya Henie, a charming, flirtatious pixie.
Milton Berle and Sonya Henie.
Glenn Miller leads his band in "In the Mood."
Trapped in a ski lodge, and falling in love...
Sun Valley guests were escorted by horse-drawn sleigh from
the train station to the resort.
Sonya Henie's elegance is mirrored on the ice.
This was a special skating show and movie that doesn't
have a parallel today.
Ketchum / Sun Valley, Idaho (2)
July / August, 2009 - Still camped in the national forest outside Ketchum,
Idaho, we left our dream campsite along the creek and moved to another
one with a spectacular mountain view. The welcoming committee here
was a moose. He came two nights in a row and quietly munched the
grasses down by the river.
A fisherman and his
son came by one
morning and said they
had been fishing this
river for 25 years and
had never seen a
moose. We suggested
they come by at dusk,
as the moose seemed to like visiting at twilight. Our new friends came by at the
appointed hour, but the moose was on a different schedule that night. He must
have had something else going on earlier, because he didn't make his
appearance until an hour after our friends had left.
We were in a stunning setting with the Harriman Trail running behind
us on one side and the most amazing mountain view soaring into the
sky on the other side.
We rode the trail up to Easley Hot Springs where a swimming pool
and hot tub have been built to take advantage of the springs.
Further on, the trail winds through the forest and meadow. I wanted
to ride it the remaining 10 miles up to Galena Lodge, but the weather
had other ideas.
A magnificent storm swept in during the afternoon and
blanketed the whole valley with black clouds. I was way up the
trail somewhere on my bike, hoping to outpace the downpour coming
back. I made it back just in time, but Mark had gotten nervous that I'd
be caught out somewhere, so he had climbed onto the roof of the buggy
to see where I had disappeared to.
When I got back the sky darkened even more. The sun peeked
through the clouds for a moment and gave us the most unusual
lighting all around the trailer.
We were both enchanted. What a magical moment. As the
lightning started in the distance and the rain began to fall on
the horizon, we were overcome with a delicious, eerie
feeling. We could see Ketchum getting pelted by rain in the
distance, but our little oasis had a tiny spotlight of sun.
The worst of the storm
passed to the north of us,
but it affected the weather
for the next week.
We woke up the next
morning to find the
mountains embraced by clouds and covered
in ice and snow. The warm daytime
temperatures had vanished. We would get a
few hours of cloudless skies and bright
sunshine each morning, but by noon an echo
of that storm would begin to well up in the
mountain peaks. By mid-afternoon each day
we would be engulfed in overcast skies.
Ketchum / Sun Valley is a town for the Rich
and Famous, and we stopped noticing
Porsche Carerra 4's after the umpteenth
sighting on our first day in town. Fortunately, for the wealthy car enthusiasts in
town, the Sheriff has a great affection for raw power. One morning we found
ourselves in the midst of the unusual Sun Valley Road Rally. The Sheriff had
agreed to shut down a few miles of Route 75, the Sawtooth Scenic Highway
heading north out of town, so the townsfolk could race their cars.
This was a
charity event, and
entrants paid $1,500
a run to drive their
cars as fast as they
could past the
Sheriff's speed trap.
He then wrote up a
fake ticket showing
the speed they were
going when they
passed the radar
gun. For three
hours the cars went
off at five minute intervals.
Twice each hour for 15 minutes the road was temporarily opened to regular traffic.
Mark had a field day watching the Ford GT's, Vipers and Porsches parade past the spectators to
the starting point beyond the top of the hill. We would hear each car in the distance first, and he
would try to guess what it was by its whine. Then the car would crest the hill and start its descent
towards the radar gun. An announcer would tell us the type of car and the speed it was going,
and we had fun guessing the speeds before they were announced. The Toyota Prius was a big
surprise at 107 mph, and the vintage (1956) Ferrari with its equally vintage driver was cute at
117 mph. A Bentley and souped up truck joined the fun.
However, the big surprise came when a middle-aged mom with
long dark hair stepped out of a Porsche after it was clocked
going 181 mph. She got a round of applause, but left us all even
more shocked when she handed the keys over to a young
blonde, gave her a hug and sent her off to the starting line.
When the Porsche showed up again, the radar read 183 mph.
The crowd went wild, and the young girl emerged. We
discovered that she was the mom's 22-year-old daughter, and that the boy she was handing the
keys to was her 23-year-old brother. When he came roaring by at 188 the crowd went ballistic.
Finally, dad got a turn at the wheel. We were hoping he would show us all how it is done, but he
didn't quite match his son, coming in at just 186 mph. The young boy in that Porsche shared the
crown for the day with a Ford GT that also reached 188 mph.
All that fast-paced excitement had
to be countered with something a little lower key. We went in to
Sun Valley to watch the 1941 movie, "Sun Valley Serenade,"
starring Sonya Henie. There is a free showing every afternoon.
The movie theater is the Sun Valley Opera House, a cute building
in the middle of the Sun Valley Resort complex.
This movie was originally made, in part, to promote Sun Valley
as a winter destination. Who better to be the star than the
utterly charming 3-time Olympic figure skating champion of the
day, Sonya Henie.
The producers put together a first-
rate show, with Milton Berle and
Glenn Miller's band taking
supporting roles. The story tells of a
young Norwegian refugee who
beguiles her unsuspecting sponsor
into falling in love with her.
As you listen to "In the Mood" and
"Chattanooga Choo Choo"
performed by the master himself,
the movie unfolds with scenes of
Sun Valley, appearing as it did when
it first opened.
Trains brought visitors into town from far away places, and horse-drawn sleighs took them to the
resort from the train station. Sun Valley was a bright light of pure fun and fantasy at the end of
the Great Depression, and its promotional movie is bewitching.
Besides Henie's dazzling
performance as a piquant
and mischievous flirt, some of
the most intriguing scenes
are on the ice where she
performs with a partner and
supporting cast on a sheet of
ice covered in a thin layer of
water. The scenes were shot
at night, and as the skaters
glide across the ice, their
reflections make them seem
to be dancing on water.
We left that movie with smiles on
our faces, caught up in the charm of
Sun Valley as it once was. We had
gotten the idea to see the movie
from the Visitor Center's list of "50
Fun Free Things To Do in
Ketchum / SunValley," and when we
checked the list that night there
were still quite a few to go. No
need to leave Ketchum/Sun Valley
just yet.
Related Post about Figure Skating:
A Unique Encounter with Figure Skating Legend Toller Cranston 01/28/15
Related posts from our RV travels to the Sun Valley area:
- Sun Valley, Idaho – A Joyful Return to a Favorite RV Spot! 08/13/22
- Sun Valley Idaho – An RV Traveler’s Delight in Ketchum, ID! 09/16/16
- Sun Valley Idaho – in Trailer Life Magazine! 08/07/15
- Craters of the Moon + Cataclysms from Sun Valley ID to Alpine WY 09/02/14
- The Artsy Side of Sun Valley, ID 08/26/14
- Ice Queens of Sun Valley, ID 08/21/14
- Sun Valley Road Rally – Go Granny Go! 08/16/14
- Sun Valley Idaho – Music, History & Celebrities 08/15/09
- Sun Valley Idaho – RV Camping, Car Racing & Skating Legends 08/06/09
- Sun Valley & Ketchum ID – Beauty & Fun in the Mountains! 07/25/09
Sun Valley & Ketchum ID – Beauty & Fun in the Mountains!
Lots of folks jump from the 480 foot tall Perrine Bridge
in Twin Falls, Idaho.
Pretty bike bath along the Snake River.
The first settler built his farm in this valley.
The welcome committee greets us outside Ketchum.
A mule deer stopped by our campsite every night.
The paved rails-to-trails bike path runs for 30 miles.
Averell Harriman wanted a world class
ski resort destination on his railroad line.
The Harriman Trail runs 20 miles north from Ketchum.
It is a great place for mountain biking.
We saw lots of riders on the trail everyday.
Lance Armstrong's quest for gold in the
Tour de France inspires cyclists even in
this remote outpost.
The Elephant Perch bike shop has a weekly group ride
into the postcard-like scenery.
This laid back town is full of whimsy.
Even the huge chair is wearing
cowboy boots.
The whole town lives outside for the summer months.
In this upscale town the free samples are gourmet
meats and imported cheeses.
Flowers and mountains frame the town.
The town rallied support for Pfc.
Bowe Bergdahl who had recently
been captured in Afghanistan.
We found the ideal campsite.
...but the views and serenity were worth the white
knuckles and scuff marks.
Perched on the edge of a glittering creek, we had to
go to great lengths to shoehorn our rig down a trail
into this paradise...
The sun always disappeared as soon as Mark
stepped into the ice cold water.
This place is ideal for rest and
relaxation.
Ketchum / Sun Valley, Idaho
Early July, 2009 - After landing in Burbank, California, following our
seven week sojourn in Michigan, we collected our trailer and made a
circuitous route to Idaho in search of some R&R. We had fallen in love
with the small town of Kellogg, outside of Coeur d'Alene, two years
earlier, and everything we had heard about Idaho from other travelers
was outstanding. One six-year full-timing veteran we met in Pioche, NV
last year told us, "I just came from a boondocking spot in Stanley,
Idaho, and it was exactly what I've been looking for all these years:
gorgeous mountain views, meadows filled with wildflowers, clear
streams, and lots of wildlife." This image had been in the back of our
minds ever since.
After a long
slog across
the Nevada
desert, we aimed for Twin Falls, Idaho. We had thought we'd blow right
through town, but instead we got a blowout on one of the trailer tires
about 60 miles from town. We limped into Twin Falls on the spare tire
with eyes only for Les Schwab Tires. Once a new tire was in place, we
opened our eyes a little more and began to look around. What a neat
town.
It is legal to
jump off the
huge bridge
spanning the Snake River with a parachute, and we watched for quite a
while as people suited up with all kinds of lines and parachute gear,
walked to the middle of the bridge, climbed over the railing, and jumped
off. In the distance we could see the spot where Evel Knievel tried to
jump the Snake River with his motorcycle back in 1974 (his parachute
opened too early and he landed on the water's edge just below his
launch site).
There is a pretty bike path that goes along the edge of the Snake River,
offering fantastic views into the canyon and river below. The first settler
had put his farm on the river's edge smack in the middle of the canyon.
Today the same area is home to a beautiful pair of golf courses. As I gathered tourist material at the visitor's center, I wanted to
stay longer, but this was a hot time of year to be here, and the mountains were calling up ahead. I had emailed the head of the
Escapees' Boondockers club, asking where the best boondocking
spot might be in the Sawtooth Mountains, and got the response,
"There are MANY beautiful spots." I was a little bemused by this
vague answer, but when I arrived at the Sawtooth National
Recreation Area I discovered that she was right: there are
gorgeous spots all over the place, no planning needed.
Our welcome committee the first night was a young mule deer.
He walked through our campsite, totally unconcerned about our
presence. One special patch of grass kept him occupied for over
an hour. The second night, in a new site, another mule deer
stopped by to say "hello." We were quickly feeling all the cares of
the world slip away.
There is a wonderful rails-to-trails paved bike path that goes between
Bellevue, to the south, and Ketchum, to the north. Thirty miles or so
in overall length, it does several loops in and around the Ketchum/
Sun Valley area as well. We rode it into town regularly, although the
wide shoulder on Route 75 makes for great cycling too. Riding these
paths and roads, I kept feeling as though I was riding through a
bicycle touring catalog's best photos.
The town of Ketchum has its deepest roots in silver mining, but it also
has the distinction of being home to a world class ski resort. Averell
Harriman, a railroad baron, wanted a prime winter tourist destination
somewhere on his line. He hired an Austrian count to scour the
countryside along the railroad in order to find the best location. After
several months of searching, almost ready to call it quits, the count
made one last trip -- to Ketchum -- and decided this was the spot.
The Sun Valley resort opened to
great fanfare in 1936. It was such a
celebrated wonderland of ice and
snow and the rich and famous that far
far away in New York City my mom
grew up in the 1940's fantasizing
about visiting someday (and she did,
in 2003).
We first heard of Mr. Harriman
because of the mountain bike trail that bears his name. It runs from Ketchum north for 20 miles
to Galena Lodge, winding along the Big Wood River. Between that trail to the north and the
paved bike path to the south, we were very happy campers, getting out on our bikes every day.
Brilliant deep blue skies greeted us every morning during our first week,
giving way to puffy clouds every afternoon. It was paradise.
Our first stop in town was the bike shop, of course. There are many
bike shops in Ketchum, but the one in the center of town -- and the
one broadcasting the Tour de France every day -- was the Elephant
Perch. Lance Armstrong was in the hunt when we arrived, and there
were high hopes he'd pull off one of his famous maneuvers to win.
The Elephant's Perch has a group bike ride every Wednesday night,
and they were relying on Lance for inspiration to tackle the
mountains around town.
We saw some of the faster riders out on the road and vowed to join
them the following Wednesday. Unfortunately, ten miles into the ride
(just as I was wondering how I was going to fare on the big hill up
ahead) the heavens opened up, and it poured. Mark and I took that as our cue to exit and dashed back to the trailer as fast as we
could go. The ride leader, Nappy, had told us that the group never misses a date at The Roosevelt, a restaurant in town where
they reserve a private room to imbibe a bit after the ride. We didn't realize just how serious these post-ride dates were until later:
the whole group had turned back when the downpour began, but they went straight to the bar!
This happy-go-lucky spirit pervades the whole town. Whimsical statues
grace the main drag, from huge cowboy booted
flamingos to huge cowboy booted rocking chairs to
fun and crazy animals and other sculptures.
The summer is short here, so
everyone spends a lot of time
outside. There are a zillion cute
bistros, with cafe tables all over
the place, and there are events
going on every day.
If it isn't a musician strumming his
guitar in the middle of town, it's the
gourmet meat and cheese vendor
giving away samples (even pure
angus beef "sliders"). Every day
we came into town we were swept
up into something fun.
On a more serious note, the town was trimmed head to
toe in yellow ribbons, with plaintive signs stating, "Bring
Bowe Home." Beloved local boy, Pfc. Bowe Bergdahl, a
Hailey, Idaho native, had recently been captured in Afghanistan, and a video tape of him had
just been released by his Al Queda captors. The community had rallied around his family, and
there were offerings of support everywhere.
Grateful to everyone, past and present, who has gifted
us with freedom, we enjoyed many strolls around town.
There were flowers everywhere, pretty mountains in the
distance (with ski runs plain to see), and it was a big
enough town that it took several strolls on different days
to see all of it.
We had been out of our home and away from our
lifestyle for so long that these kinds of easy days in a
friendly town were exactly what we needed. Stanley,
which we had assumed would be our destination, was
still 60 miles up the road, but we couldn't tear ourselves
away from Ketchum.
We even got library cards at the local library so we
could take out some CDs and DVDs to enjoy in the
trailer (there was little radio and no TV reception in the
national forest).
We scouted out many boondocking areas by bike, and
happened on the ideal spot 3 miles down a very bad dirt road. It was too tempting not to try, but
in hindsight it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I stood on the roof of the trailer and trimmed
branches for quite some time before we shoe-horned ourselves into the spot. Only after we'd
gotten in did we think about getting out. Yikes. On the day we pulled out there was thunder and
lightning in the distance and big, fat threatening raindrops falling all around us. Our patch of dirt
quickly turned into a mudhole. But Mark managed to do a 30-point turn with the trailer, dodging
two large boulders and three trees, and got us turned around.
In the end, however, the white
knuckles and scuffs were all worth it:
the many days between our arrival
and our departure were pure
storybook fantasy.
We were camped on the edge of a creek with a
cascade of mountains rising behind us. The mule
deer came by every evening, except on the
weekends when the forest had too many human
visitors.
The sun shone so warmly that we ran around in
shorts and tank tops, that is, until Mark decided to
sponge off in the water. Then the sun always
went behind a huge cloud and stayed there, leaving him in shade while he hooped and hollered and
thundered like an ornery bull, splashing ice water all over himself. It was all very impressive, but I preferred
taking a hot shower in the rig. Of course, by that time the warm sun would be out again.
We spent our days walking and riding along the dirt road,
reading and listening to things we'd gotten from the library,
tidying up the many loose ends that had been frayed with our
hasty departure in May, and generally getting back to our old
selves. It felt so good to unwind in our own home.
Our return to the rig had been a little rockier than we would
have liked. We dashed first to San Diego and then to San
Francisco in pursuit of one final sailboat deal before giving up for
the season. We had learned over the course of the preceding
months that the sailboat brokerage business is not one for the faint
of heart. It is a cut-throat, dog-eat-dog world of ruthless
backstabbers. One broker told us how another had robbed him of
a deal at a boat show and then gloated openly for days afterwards.
Another lamented that his employer had stolen a deal from him at
the last minute and refused to pay his commission after he had
invested weeks of effort in the transaction. He later found out the
employer owed other employees tens of thousands of dollars in
commissions too. Apparently honesty isn't a policy in that industry.
So it was no surprise when the boat that we had been assured had
air conditioning ("I saw the compressor myself") turned out not to. However, it was a very big surprise when on
the same day, in the same town (tony Sausalito), a pair of well respected brokers who had been selling one of
the highest end European brands of yachts for years got hauled off to jail for embezzling several hundred
thousand dollars from their clients. How reassuring (though depressing) to discover that our assessment of the
California boat business was right on the mark.
We were able to laugh about all that now, in the shade of a tall pine with the water glistening on the rocks in
front of us. Our dream had sent us on a wild goose chase, including a whirlwind tour of Michigan. We hadn't
ended up where we expected, but all had turned out well. These woods, this town, our trailer -- all wonderful.
We were living a dream right now, and, as life has taught us over the years, dreams can
be very flirtatious and hard to capture. Sometimes they make us feel like toddlers,
running around on stubby legs, waving our arms, chasing butterflies. The best moments
in life are gifted to us like jewels from leprechauns, unexpectedly, as if by magic.
Thank goodness for our beautiful national forests. As we hung around Ketchum for a
month, we were able to take our "summer cottage" from one priceless creek-side
campsite to another stunning mountain-view campsite, and enjoy exquisite scenery all
around us every day.
We had partied long and hard with friends and family all winter, and then we had eaten
our way around Michigan for almost two months. Who can pass up fresh raspberry pie
made by the Amish? Or hot-out-of-the-oven pastries and cookies at a cute Canadian
farm stand overlooking Lake Erie? Not us! But now our clothes told the rest of the story,
as everything we owned was too tight. It was time to get fit and healthy again. We
started doing daily runs and bike rides, and we got our hand weights out of their hiding spot way under
the back seat of the truck.
But man, were we sore. A little exercise sent us
straight to bed for an afternoon nap each day.
What's more, the sun didn't crest the mountains
until after 9:00 in the morning, so why get out of
bed before that? For a while I think all we did
was sleep, exercise and nibble a little here and
there. We had driven 4,000 miles around
Michigan, and done another 1,600 to get here
from California. It felt really good just to stop.
And what a place to do it: Ketchum and Sun
Valley are worthy of a really long visit.
Related posts from our RV travels to the Sun Valley area:
- Sun Valley, Idaho – A Joyful Return to a Favorite RV Spot! 08/13/22
- Sun Valley Idaho – An RV Traveler’s Delight in Ketchum, ID! 09/16/16
- Sun Valley Idaho – in Trailer Life Magazine! 08/07/15
- Craters of the Moon + Cataclysms from Sun Valley ID to Alpine WY 09/02/14
- The Artsy Side of Sun Valley, ID 08/26/14
- Ice Queens of Sun Valley, ID 08/21/14
- Sun Valley Road Rally – Go Granny Go! 08/16/14
- Sun Valley Idaho – Music, History & Celebrities 08/15/09
- Sun Valley Idaho – RV Camping, Car Racing & Skating Legends 08/06/09
- Sun Valley & Ketchum ID – Beauty & Fun in the Mountains! 07/25/09
Elkhart, IN – A Visit to the RV/MH Hall of Fame
Marblehead Lighthouse, near Sandusky, Ohio
The town of Oberlin, Ohio
Oberlin College building
Tartan - C&C factory and boatyard
RV/MH Hall of Fame
RV/MH Hall of Fame
Jul-Aug, 2007 Issue features a book review of Al
Hesselbart's "The Dumb Things Sold... just like that"
Road Back in Time
1929 Wiedman Housecar
driver's seat, a $35 option
1913 Model T & "Earl" Travel Trailer
1913 "Earl" Travel Trailer
1916 Cozy Camp Tent Trailer
Wooden spoked wheels
Well, at least you're up off the ground!
1932 Gilkie Kamp King Tent Trailer
Ice box and pass-through pantry
1935 Covered Wagon Travel Trailer
1935 Covered Wagon Travel Trailer
inside
1955 Ranger Crank-up Tent Trailer
1954 Shasta Travel Trailer
Mark and his sisters camped here!
Gravity fed water system with a hose to the sink
1967 19' Winnebegao Motor Home
Mae West's 1931 Housecar. She would sit in a rocking
chair on the back porch to enjoy the breeze.
Pristine woodwork in a 1937 Hayes Motorhome
1929 Covered Wagon
1935 Bowlus Road Chief
1916 Telescoping Apartment
Joe & Kay Peterson were inducted in 2001
"If you don't fulfill your dreams now, when will you?"
Ohio & the Elkhart, Indiana RV Hall of Fame
Early June, 2009 - We left the Detroit area for a southern loop tour.
We drove along the Ohio shore of Lake Erie, headed over to Elkhart,
Indiana and came up along Michigan's southwest coast before
returning to Detroit. In the midst of our seven week hiatus from living in
our trailer, we found it odd and fun to be traveling by rental car and
motels for a change. We hadn't lived out of a car with a cooler in
years. Mark got a kick out of driving the tiny Hyundai Accent, as it
could turn on a dime and park anywhere, quite a contrast to our Dodge
RAM 3500 long bed truck which needs almost four lanes to do a U-
turn.
Our first stop was Marblehead Lighthouse outside Sandusky with views
of the Cedar Point amusement park across the bay. It is nestled among
some wonderful flat boulders that stair-step their way to the lake. Built in
1819, the keeper decided to put his home a full 2.5 miles away. Every
night he had to get over to the lighthouse to light 13 whale oil lamps and
then return in the morning to extinguish them. What a hike!
Along the
shores of
Lake Erie, we stopped for an ice cream cone at the Dairy Dock in the
little town of Vermilion. After licking our way to bliss at their picnic
benches, our hearts stopped when we discovered we'd locked the keys
in the car. Within five minutes the ice cream shop had called the cops
and a cruiser had arrived to unlock the car for us. Incredible. The cop
wouldn't even accept an ice cream treat from us, though he said it was
his fifth keys-locked-in call of the day.
I had heard much about Oberlin College in my student days, and when I
saw it on the map we made a quick detour. The town and college have
grown up as one, both intimately integrated. We spent a happy few
hours wandering around, then stopped in at the admissions office to look
at a course catalog. No such luck: today's students just go online.
We had driven along Lake Erie to visit the Tartan sailboat factory.
Tartan is a highly respected, expensive brand that is nice to admire if a
friend owns one but requires exceptionally deep pockets to buy. So it
was a bit of a shock to see the drab little factory building that didn't even
have a sign out front other than a small cloth banner. There were just a
few boats being built, and they had started taking in refurbishment
projects to keep everyone employed. However, a big highlight for us
was seeing the 53' yacht they were just completing. To the tune of $1.4
million, some fortunate soul would soon take delivery in Florida to sail it
through the Caribbean to the South Pacific.
We cut across
Ohio to
Elkhart,
Indiana, the heart of the RV industry, or at least home to the vast
majority of RV manufacturers as well as the RV/MH Hall of Fame. We
had heard rumors that Elkhart was really suffering because the RV
industry had taken such a beating in the past year. However, a stop at
McDonald's revealed the most upscale version of that fast food joint I've
ever seen. There were several very large flat screen TVs hanging on
the walls, like a sports bar, comfy couches, and an enormous two-sided
fireplace that filled the center of the restaurant. If Elkhart was suffering
now, it had certainly known some extremely flush times in recent years.
We spent an afternoon at the
RV/MH Hall of Fame. It sits on a huge piece of beautifully landscaped property and has a
long manicured driveway leading up to a striking, modern building. I was so impressed
with the fountain showing off the building's glass windowed facade that I jumped out of the
car to take a photo. Only after I hopped back in and we parked did I realize that the side
that impressed me so much was the back side. The grander entrance was on the other
side in the front! The building is a rotunda with fountains on both sides and there are
towering plate glass windows looking out at the pretty acreage all around.
A very friendly fellow
greeted us, explaining what
we'd see inside. He stood
next to a podium displaying
an issue of Escapees
Magazine which had
featured a review of Al
Hesselbart's book "The
Dumb Things Sold...just like
that!" Apparently there was
some surprise among the
RV industry's founding fathers that America would take to life on the
road and become so enthusiastic about camping in towed and
driven vehicles.
A picture on the wall
showed a 1930's era
couple happily driving a
convertible pulling a trailer.
Just beyond that we turned
a corner and stepped onto
the "Road Back in Time," a
clever, charming and
informative display of
trailers and motorhomes
from the 1910's to the
1970's.
This museum puts you in
the driver's seat (and there
is a crazy one that was a
$35 option in a 1929
"housecar." It looks more
like a living room reading
chair than a driver's seat). You can walk into most of the trailers
to get a good look.
The 1913 "Earl" Travel Trailer (towed by a 1913 Model "T")
is the oldest travel trailer in the world.
The table seats four and folds down into a double bed, with
storage under the seats. This unit was custom made by a
Los Angeles carriage maker for a CalTech professor and
was quite upscale.
In contrast, the homebuilt 1916 Cozy Camp Tent Trailer
looked like all it did was get your bed up off the ground. Under
the wooden wagon box were wooden spoked wheels. These
didn't last long and manufacturers quickly switched to
pneumatic tires.
The idea of a small towable box that popped up and popped
out, like a modern popup tent trailer, seems to have been
common even before World War I. However, unlike the
modern descendants of these rickety looking canvas popups,
the beds opened to the sides of the trailer rather than popping
out of the front and back.
Of course today's popups feature hot and cold running water,
propane stove and refrigerator, air conditioning, forced hot air
heat, and sometimes a small toilet and shower. The ancestral
popup featured two twin beds, some small screen
windows and little else. But I bet they faced fewer crowds
and had just as much fun as we do today.
The 1932 Gilkie Kamp King Tent Trailer had a pass-
through ice box and pantry shelves on the front of the
trailer so it could be provisioned whether it was open or
closed. Gilkie was one of the first trailer builders based in
Indiana, and this particular one was used by its owner
from the 1930's until 1988.
"Hard sided" trailers were popular too.
The 1935 Covered Wagon Travel
Trailer is boxy looking from the outside, but
what storage space inside! All kinds of
drawers and cabinets for those camping
essentials. It was built by the largest
manufacturer of that time. They turned out
45-50 trailers a day from a single plant! The
exterior of this trailer is "genuine leatherette"
over a thin layer of plywood, and the roof is
coated canvas stretched over tar paper.
The 1955 Ranger Crank Up Trailer looked
like a cross between a popup and the
modern HiLo series of trailers. This trailer model was the first
one to use fiberglass for the sides. It also featured a bed that
extended out the back, which the company described as a
"slide-out." They were the
first manufacturer to use
that term which is so
common in all RVs today.
The next trailer got Mark
smiling: "My dad had one
of those!" It was a 1954
Shasta 15' Travel Trailer.
When I peeked inside I
tried to imagine Mark's
Mom making meals in
there and Mark and his
sisters sitting at the little
table.
It had a gravity-fed water
system that had a reservoir in the cabinet over the sink and a small
hose leading into the sink.
The 1967 19' Winnebego Motor Home looked like some of the rigs
we'd seen on Shelter Island in San Diego a few months earlier. It
was the first of the 6-cylinder
Ford chassis based motorhomes
and, priced at $5,000, it kick-started
the motorhome industry.
Once through the "Road Back in
Time," we moved on into the Ingram
Hall of Fame. This is a special exhibit
area that features the antique RV
collection owned by "Boots" Ingram,
founder of Teton Homes (which until
last year produced ultra high end fifth
wheels) and his wife Betty. Each unit
is one-of-a-kind and has a unique
history.
Perhaps most interesting was Mae
West's chauffeur driven Housecar, custom built to take her to and from the movie sets in 1931.
It was offered to her by Paramount Pictures as an enticement to get her to leave the Vaudeville
circuit to make movies. It was intended as something of a moveable lounge, equipped with an
icebox and hotplate stove for making tea, and it carried a rocking chair on the "back porch"
where she could enjoy the breeze.
Another special antique was the 1937
Hayes Motor Home which featured
exquisite woodwork inside. This
particular unit was used just a few
times in the 1940's and then put in
storage until it was rediscovered in
the 1990's. So other than exterior
paint, everything is 100% original.
The 1929 Covered Wagon trailer was
the first production trailer made in the
US. Covered Wagon became the
biggest trailer manufacturer in the
1930's but closed its doors after
World War II.
And what antique RV exhibit would be complete without a reference to the aluminum sided
Airstream. This model was the predecessor, designed by Hawley Bowlus of sailplane (glider)
design fame. His segmented aluminum panels were intended to look like a glider's silk fabric
stretched over a wood frame. Airstream took over the design in 1936 and made some minor
changes, eliminating the boat-tail end and moving the entry door.
My favorite, and the hardest to capture in a picture (and none turned out right), is the 1916
Telescoping Apartment built on a 1915 Model T truck. The back of the truck camper system
slides out on both sides, revealing cooking accessory storage and a fold-out table on one side
and clothing storage drawers on the other. The rear end telescopes out to create an open area
in the middle of the truck large enough to be a bed. It was something of a puzzle to imagine
how it all folded in on itself for travel.
There was so much to see that our
eyes started to glaze over. As I
review the photos now, I wish I had
taken even more pictures, although
I remember at the time thinking I
had taken too many already, as my
camera was flashing about five times more
than anyone else's. Upstairs we found the
Wall of Fame lined with photos of the RV
industry dignitaries that have been
honored each year since 1972. There is
no info about the honorees accompanying
the photos, but there is a computer nearby
that has a database where you can search
for an honoree and read a short bio about
him or her.
We found the photo of Kay and Joe Peterson of Escapees, who were honored in 2001, and the one of
Wally Byam of Airstream who was honored in the first year, 1972. We wanted to see if the founders of
NuWa had been honored, but the system isn't set up to make that kind of search very easy. You need to know the name of the
honoree rather than the name of the company.
Upstairs also houses the Reference Library. Here you can find back issues of any and every RV magazine that ever existed, from
the earliest issues of Trailer Life to the most recent issue of the Gypsy Journal. All the magazines stand vertically in open boxes on
the bookshelves, so you can easily grab any issue and thumb through it. We spent some happy moments leafing through old
Trailer Dealer industry trade magazines and looking at back copies of Camping World catalogs. We even found ads in old trailer
magazines for some of the trailers we had just seen on the Road Back in Time.
It was interesting to breeze through some of the articles from years past and find that many of the same issues were as important
in those days as they are today: how to live with limited resources while on the road, advocacy for access to public lands,
campground etiquette, how to keep the kids happy, and maintenance on every part of a trailer or motorhome, among other things.
I randomly grabbed the October/November 1990 issue of Escapees magazine. It was much smaller and thinner than today's
edition, but it still had an opening editorial by Kay Peterson. As she does in today's magazine, she was gently reminding us to get
out there and pursue our dreams:
"Because we have no way of knowing how long our life's cycle will last, it
upsets me to hear people, young and old, who are waiting for a particular
event to do whatever it is they want to do... If you don't fulfill your dreams
now, when will you?"
Thank you, Kay, that is timeless advice!
And with her gentle encouragement ringing in our ears, we went back to
the motel to rest up for the next day's adventure: driving the Amish
Lake Michigan – Charming coastal towns
Saugatuck Chain Ferry
Hand-cranking the ferry
Saugatuck Main Street
282 steps to the top
Looking down at Saugatuck
Grand Haven, MI
Higgins Lake
Behind the ice cream shop is a secret path...
Higgins Lake
Bay Breeze Yacht Charters
Free sailing!
Chateau Chantal vineyard
Old Mission Lighthouse
Pyramid Point Hike
Birch tree -- not aspen
Pyramid Point, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park.
Saugatuck, Higgins Lake & Traverse City
Early June, 2009 - We left South Haven, Michigan and drove a little
further up the coast to Saugatuck, another utterly charming town along
the the state's southern Lake Michigan coast. At the far end of town
we discovered the hand-cranked Saugatuck Chain Ferry which takes
passengers across the river. As we stood at the little ferry dock
marveling at this contraption, a mom, dad and daughter on bikes
appeared on the other side of the river. They started waving their
hands excitedly, the little girl especially. Suddenly the two young boys
on the chain ferry leaped into action.
One boy managed the lines while the other manned the hand-cranking
station. He cranked the lever round and round, and slowly the ferry
began to move along its chain. The current is quite strong in the
middle of the river, and it made sense to put this hand-powered ferry
on a chain system so it couldn't drift downstream faster than it could be
cranked across. The family on the other side happily loaded their
bikes onto the ferry and the boys switched roles for the return trip.
The town has a lovely main street
for walking and window shopping.
We found many pretty flower
displays along the storefronts as
we walked. We wished we had our
bikes so we could venture a little
further from the center of town.
However, being bikeless, at least
this pretty flower basket bike was
nice to photograph.
On the far side of the river, where
the family of bicyclists had flagged
down the ferry, Mount Baldhead
has 282 stairs leading to the top.
Lots of people seem to climb this
staircase as a workout -- at
different paces. Mark pumped
his way to the top at a steady
trot, while I gave myself a few
breathers near the end.
After admiring the view at the
top, we ran down the sand path
on the other side to Oval Beach
for a quick peak at the lake.
Then we got our heart rates
going again as we staggered up
the sand path to the top.
Sweaty and grinning, I started
down the stairs to the car. I
hadn't gone 12 stairs when I
met a 79-year-old woman
coming up. She had stopped to
catch her breath, and as she
wiped her brow she told me she
climbs this stairway once a year.
We got back in the car and started making our way north again. On a
small road that wound through the backs of some pretty neighborhoods
we saw a commotion ahead of us in someone's front yard. Kids and
bikes were everywhere and a small pen was set up in the yard. We got
out of the car to see what the fuss was about and discovered a family
was selling a litter of six adorable Golden Retriever pups. Hardly any
were in the pen; all were in the arms of the neighborhood kids. The
momma retriever stood to one side looking very proud and rather
exhausted. Mark finally got a chance to hold a pup, and he was in
heaven. If we weren't living a traveling lifestyle, he would have been the
proud owner of a new puppy that day.
A little further up the road we stopped in Grand Haven, another small town that has grown
up along the shores of Lake Michigan. An ice cream cone and a stroll around town, and
we were happy tourists.
We returned to Detroit for a week or so to catch
up with family again. Then we got the itch to
see more of Michigan and set out for the
northern reaches of the state. Our first stop
was Higgins Lake, Mark's family's old stomping
grounds when they camped with a myriad of
cousins and aunts and uncles in large family
caravans years ago. The little Shasta sister-
trailer we had seen in Elkhart had hosted many
a family campfire at Higgins Lake.
Mark remembered the rangers at
this campground as being quite
cranky, and sure enough they
wouldn't allow us to drive through
the campground to take a look
around unless we paid for a night's stay. As teens, Mark and his friends
had referred to the ranger there as "Ranger Danger," and had done
dastardly things like played very loud Led Zeppelin from their oversized
car stereo systems, blasting everyone out of the campground. Now, of
course, whenever rowdy teens disturb our serene camping spots, I have
to remind him that it is simply payback time.
But our mission of the moment
was to get into the Higgins Lake
campground just long enough to get a good nostalgic
look around. Mark drove past the campground entrance
to the old ice cream stand that he and his cousins had
walked to every day, and sure enough, the little path he
remembered still led into the campground out of sight of
the main entrance. We snuck down the path and got
our trip down memory lane despite Ranger Danger.
Mark's dad had always rented a big party barge during
their stays on the lake, and as we looked out on all the
happy boaters, the many family slideshows we'd been
watching over the past few weeks suddenly came to life.
Continuing north across the state, we spent some time
in Traverse City. This charming area was feeling the pinch from the bad
economy and we stayed in a motel that had posted a sign saying: "We're
almost giving rooms away," which they were. As we drove along the
shorefront of this very pretty town, we heard
advertisements for a boat show. Who could pass that up?
So off we went to see what a Great Lakes boat show might
be like.
Bay Breeze Yacht Charters was the center of attention.
The business had been recently acquired by Dave and
Kristin who had Michigan roots but had just spent 14 years
in the Caribbean bareboat yacht charter business. "Your
brain turns to mush after that long in the Caribbean," Dave
said, so they had returned to Michigan to shovel a little
snow and sharpen up a bit. They were offering free sails
on the bay for the boat show and needed two more people
before they pushed off -- so we hopped on. What fun to
be out sailing again! As we hung around on the boat for a
while afterwards, all the thoughts about our sailing
dreams that we'd been
avoiding for the past month
suddenly flooded back.
Hmmm.
Early next morning we drove
out along the Mission
Peninsula on beautiful winding
roads past farms and orchards
and vineyards. Chateau
Chantal is perched high up with
views past their vineyard to
distant farmlands that roll down
to the bay on the horizon.
At the end of the peninsula we walked around the Old Mission
Lighthouse and swished our fingers in the waters of the lake.
It was a glorious morning, and we must have said 50 times to each
other: "this would be a perfect place to ride a bike." Sure enough,
before long, we came across a group of cyclists out for a morning ride
along those wonderful sweeping roads. We followed them down a tiny
road that led out to the bay and watched the scenery unfold next to us
as we returned back towards Traverse City.
Every home had a boat dock across the
street, and boats of all shapes and sizes
were ready to take passengers out for a
ride on the lake.
Dave and Kristin of Bay Breeze had
recommended we drive straight west to
the open shore of Lake Michigan and
hike out to Pyramid Point in the Sleeping
Bear Dunes. The hike took us through
some lush forest.
We noticed birch trees -- not our familiar
aspens -- along the trail.
At the end the
trail opened
up to a commanding view of Lake
Michigan.
The water was clear and turquoise,
shading to a rich blue a little further
out capped off by some low islands in
the distance.
We drove along the rural roads that
looped back towards Traverse City.
Suddenly a colorful palette of flowers
appeared, and we stopped for a closer
look.
It was an iris farm, and the
irises were in stunning bloom.
The farm had planted varieties
in every possible shade and
color combination.
We roamed along the rows of
flowers for an hour, stepping
gingerly between them.
Looking around at the many
hues, I felt like I was in the
middle of a Monet painting.
A second night in the
motel where they were "almost
giving rooms away," and we
were ready to go to further
north in search of more scenic
waterfront villages along
Elkhart, IN – RV Factories and Amish Country
Bonneyville Mills
Irises in bloom
White Amish barn
Horses & buggies parked at the hardware store
Kids get early driver's ed at a young age.
Jayco Designer fifth wheels in the holding pen
Jayco Jay Feather travel trailers
Amish home across the street from the Jayco holding pen
Modern versus antiquated.
Complex & Global versus Simple & Local.
These buggies move at a fast clip
The Amish drive on government maintained roads
Yoder Popcorn
Plowing with a team of horses
Getting a little motorized help
Tending the garden
Nothing beats a little power
We saw at least seven women mowing this way
Return to Indiana countryside with red barns
Heartland Factory
Trailer chassis stacked up outside.
Wheels, water and holding tanks installed.
Flooring installed.
A unique dolly system moves trailers sideways down the line
Furniture installation begins.
Bathroom sinks waiting for installation.
Side and rear walls installed. It starts to look like a trailer.
Ready to install the slide-out room.
Slide-out ready to be installed on the trailer.
Slide-out is pre-assembled.
Ready for front caps to be installed
Front caps lined up for installation.
Ready for delivery.
Elkhart's Amish & Heartland RV Tours
Early June, 2009 - The Elkhart Visitors Center is a great resource. Not
only did they help us locate the RV/MH Hall of Fame, but they gave us a
list of RV factory tour schedules. It was astonishing to see how many
manufacturers are based in this town, and more surprising to see how
many weren't offering tours because they weren't in business any more.
I wanted to find out how to experience some of the local Amish culture,
and the lady at the desk handed me a CD called "The Amish Heritage
Tour." You pop the CD into your car's player and it guides you through
a 90 mile tour of the surrounding countryside. The accompanying paper
map helps you figure out where you are going. The CD assumes you
drive the speed limit, and gives directions on where to turn. As you drive
it narrates the history of the area, describing the industries that support
Elkhart today, pointing out the Amish settlements and giving insights into
their lifestyle, and explaining the Indian and European roots in the region too. The sound effects and accompanying music are
delightful, and the driving instructions are terrific. Every 5-10 miles there is something worth stopping to see, and the CD explains
where to park and what to look for as you walk around. We returned the
CD to the Visitors Center at the end of our tour and later found out you
can download the MP3 files from their website instead of borrowing the
CD.
We spent a very happy day with that CD. The first stop was Bonneyville
Mills. A beautiful iris garden out front caught my eye.
The second suggested
stop was the RV/MH Hall
of Fame, which we had
seen the day before. I
don't think you could
squeeze both tours into one day. What we were most eager to see was the Amish countryside. We
learned that some 20,000 Amish live in this area, of about 225,000 worldwide. They are a subset of
the Mennonites who number about 1.5 million in 65 countries worldwide. With a birth rate of 6.8
children per family, the Amish population is growing at 4% annually, making it one of the fastest
growing cultures in the world. Customs vary by community, but in this area their homesteads have
white barns rather than the usual red ones in the rest of Indiana and Michigan.
The essence of their beliefs is twofold: humility and isolation. Their forebears were so terribly
persecuted for their religion in Europe in the 1600's that they withdrew from society at large,
preferring to nurture their own community's independence while keeping the rest of the world at bay.
Therefore, when electricity became available in the 1920's, they rejected it, as it would bind them to
the non-Amish around them. Similarly, they prefer to travel by horse and buggy and work the fields
manually. A horse's range is perhaps 25 miles before it needs to rest and eat, shortening the distance they can travel outside the
Amish community. Manual field tools prevent anyone from attempting to acquire a larger field than his neighbor and thereby
aggrandize himself rather than remain humble. All this adds up to an extremely simple lifestyle that thrives without much
technology. However the rejection of technology is not so much of technology in and of itself but of things that could lead to one
individual standing apart from the rest or that could make the community dependent on the outside world.
I had seen photos of Amish horses and buggies but
couldn't really believe it, so when I saw them all tied to
hitching posts at the local hardware store and local
dentist's office I was quite startled. The biggest
grouping was at the local bulk food market, a huge
building that must have had 40 horses and buggies
lined up outside. All the horses were dark colored and
the buggies were black. Most had a roof, windshield
and doors, though some were open air buggies.
The kids get early equestrian training and learn to
drive on the roads responsibly at a young age.
The CD instructed us not to take photos of the Amish, which
I mostly obeyed. However, in every Amish shop we entered
(which were staffed exclusively by Amish), there were
arrays of books and information about the Amish for sale,
featuring photos of all kinds, including some beautiful coffee
table books that had very intimate photographs of the
Amish in all aspects of their lives. Who took those lovely
photos, and did the Amish object? Apparently not, as they
were happy to display and sell the books. The Amish are
not totally independent of the world around them, as they
need to buy homes and land as their population increases,
so they interact financially. Some rely on the tourist trade
for money and others hold jobs. They have
been affected by the economic downturn as
well, and I read one local newspaper article
about an Amish man who had lost his job in
an RV factory and had to rely solely on his
farm. He liked spending more time at home
with his kids and wife, tending their farm
together, but he said if his job were available
again he would return to work without
hesitation.
In our search for trailers last year, we had encountered several
manufacturers who advertised that their trailers were Amish made,
especially the interior woodwork. The image of a man with beard,
suspenders and wide brimmed hat carefully crafting the cabinetry with
hand tools while his horse and buggy wait patiently outside can be
appealing. But it isn't quite accurate.
Jayco, in particular, advertises this Amish connection.
We came across their holding pen for trailers ready to
be shipped across country. It was an open field with
space for rows and rows of trailers. Only about half of
the rows were occupied, but it was interesting to see
rows of their high-end Designer fifth wheels and light-
weight Jay Feather travel trailers ready to go.
Directly across the narrow lane from this holding pen was an Amish farm, complete with a
large barn and several buggies parked out front. The woman of the house was tending her
vegetable garden and the clothes line was full of clothes swaying in the breeze. I was
fascinated by the juxtaposition of the simple living and home based values sandwiched into
the modern, mass market standards of the surrounding community.
We found this odd mix of
cultures on the road too, as the
horses and buggies fill all the
roads in the area. We stopped
at the Rise 'n Roll Bakery and
were enchanted with what lay
inside. A group of young Amish
were baking and selling their
goods. The girls were singing together as they worked, and when
they stopped periodically to talk together they spoke German (we later
found out it is a dialect of Swiss-German). Of course their English is
perfect as well, and the young boy at the cash register was utterly
charming as he offered us samples of the most amazing donuts I have
ever tasted. There was an innocence and sweetness among those
teenagers at that bakery that I have rarely experienced elsewhere.
And what better place for sweetness than a bakery; the sugar coated delights were heavenly. I
wanted so much to photograph the charming scene there: the girls in their bonnets laughing and
singing; the boy in his suspenders gently teasing them. Instead, I took a picture of a little sign
they had hanging below the cash register: "As you travel on life's pathway, may this always be
your goal: Keep your eyes upon the doughnut and not upon the hole!"
We took a fresh raspberry pie and
some donuts out to a little bench in
front of the bakery and watched the
Amish world go by for a while. The
horses and buggies were more
common than the cars, and they moved
at quite a clip. I was amazed looking at
one of my photos later to see that all
four of the horse's hooves were off the ground. The Amish may not travel
long distances, but they have the same urgency to get where they are
going as we do.
I read later that in some Amish communities only the young use open-air
buggies, and they are used for courting. That didn't seem to be the case
with this open-air buggy, but it sure looked like a fun way to get
around. Of course they travel on all the state and US highways that we do, and those roads are maintained by the governments
that govern us as well as them.
The Amish pay all taxes except social security tax (because they never apply for social security, relying on families to take care of
their disabled and elderly instead) and Worker's Compensation (because they do not use insurance). Again, both Social Security
and insurance would bind them too tightly to the community at large. However, some hospitals have begun to offer special care for
the Amish when they are sick, and they have been participating in studies of genetic diseases and disorders, as most Amish today
are descended from just 200 original European ancestors, and genetic disorders have become an issue.
We found ourselves eating our way across Amish land as we stopped next at the "Deutsche Kase Haus," the Cheese Factory.
They had a seemingly infinite variety of cheeses, and all were available for sampling. Mark was immune, because he doesn't like
cheese, but I tried almost all of them, and they were delicious. I noticed that other tourists were stocking up on goodies, both here
and back at the bakery, and I discovered that many people come into
Amish country on a regular basis just to buy their amazing foods.
One fellow who was traveling through ("I come here twice a year every
year!") highly recommended that we stop at the Blue Gate Restaurant in
Shipshewana and have the "Amish Plate." He said it would be one of the
best meals we'd ever have.
We didn't make it there, but we did get to Yoder Popcorn where we
bought a bag of Tender Tiny Whites.
Across the street we watched a man working his fields with a team of six
horses. The notion of using manual labor to discourage individuals from
trying to outdo their neighbors by having a bigger farm was intriguing.
The very essence of western culture can be such a Darwinian survival-
of-the-fittest scramble to the top, where aggrandizement is revered and everyone
wants to stand out. It was hard to imagine a culture where the drive for
achievement was capped. We learned that the Amish don't go to school past
eighth grade, usually attending one-room school houses in their communities. In
order to comply with the government's minimum age for leaving school, they simply
repeat 8th grade until they are the acceptable age. Amish students score higher
than average on all standardized tests except vocabulary.
Down the road we saw a man working his field with a single horse pulling a cart
that he sat in, and which, in turn, towed a gas powered tractor. Because it wasn't a
riding tractor, his farm size was naturally limited by his horse's stamina.
We did not see any churches in their communities, as they prefer to worship in
each others' homes, every other Sunday.
It was a perfect spring day, and every home had a prominent vegetable garden out front.
Almost every vegetable garden was being tended by a woman in her long dress and white
bonnet. The division of labor between the fields and the homes was distinct.
Women also mow the grass in
the yard. I stopped counting
after then 7th woman I saw
pushing a lawn mower.
These weren't little manual
rotary mowers like my brother
used to push in our tiny city
yard in Massachusetts. These
were big gas mowers that
could really get the job done. One thing we noticed is that extreme
obesity is not a problem with the Amish. All that work around the home
and farm keeps them trim.
There are Mennonite communities in the area too, and they are much
more lenient in their interpretation of how to live humbly, simply and
without ties to the outside world. At the local supermarket I watched a
group of women in long dresses and
bonnets filling their baskets with many
of the same goods we rely on, and
when they got outside they hopped in
a car and drove off.
Near the end of the tour we emerged
back into the familiar Indiana
countryside with red barns. They were
beautiful too, but it was a sign we were
coming back to a society that is more
familiar.
HEARTLAND RV FACTORY TOUR
We enjoy factory tours, and we wanted to visit
Heartland RV, one of the very successful newcomers to
the fifth wheel market. Having left the rundown looking
but elite Tartan yacht factory a few days earlier, what a
contrast it was to pull up to this modern building topped
with a proud sign and a new Mercedes parked out
front. We walked inside, inquiring about a tour, and several people instantly scurried off and came back with a salesman for us.
He was clutching some papers and thrust them towards me as he said excitedly, "Sales are down 27%!" I raised an eyebrow.
"We're number three in the industry!" He handed me the papers, and sure enough, out of 30 or so manufacturers, where sales
were down 40-60% across the board, Heartland was third from the top for smallest decline in sales volume. What a sign of the
times that a 27% drop in sales would be news to brag about.
He led us on a brisk walk to the beginning of the line, explaining to us that Heartland's founders
had been in the RV industry since time immemorial, coming from Coachmen years ago and
starting several other RV enterprises before opening Heartland. The place was abuzz with
activity. Drills, saws, stacks of parts, people moving fast: it was like a movie set. A feeling of
purposeful, focused ambition filled the air. We came out into the sunlight where the line begins
with stacks of chassis made by Lippert.
Once inside, each chassis gets
its water and holding tanks and
wheels installed. Then the
flooring is laid.
Unlike the traditional trailer
manufacturing techniques we
have seen elsewhere,
Heartland has a unique
method for getting the
trailers down the line. Most
manufacturers line the trailers up
nose to tail and let them stand on
their own landing legs and wheels
as they do at a campground. They
roll down the line all in a row on their
own wheels. In contrast, Heartland
puts each chassis on a dolly system,
both the front landing legs and the
rear wheels. They stand cheek-to-
cheek and roll down the line
sideways. The trailers don't come
off the dollies until they leave the
building, fully assembled.
This allows Heartland to put
twice as many trailers on
each assembly line. In
addition, each station on the
line has a scaffolding system
mounted to the ceiling that
can be lowered around the
trailer once it is in place to
allow workers easy access to
the high areas.
After the flooring is installed
on the chassis, the furniture
can be put in place. The
furniture modules are largely pre-
assembled.
Then the walls are installed.
The gaskets for the slides are
installed next, and the windows
are put in place.
Then the slide-outs, which are
assembled and furnished
separately, are mounted in
place.
Last of all the front cap is
installed on the nose of the
trailer.
Finally, the trailers emerge into the
sunlight, ready for shipping to the
dealerships.
There is a lot of pride in this
bustling factory. But when I asked
about warranties and repairs, it
didn't sound like the Heartland
factory wants to see their trailers
once they leave the plant. Unlike
NuWa, which offers phenomenal
personalized service at the factory for both
in-warranty and out-of-warranty work,
resulting in a steady stream of loyal customers
visiting their plant in Chanute, Kansas,
Heartland's repair service is handled exclusively
by the dealers.
Elkhart is loaded with RV manufacturers, and most offer tours. However, we
were ready to change gears and go up Michigan's west coast to visit some of the
cute waterfront towns that line Lake Michigan's shores.
South Haven – Harbor Village
South Haven's beautiful waterfront
South Haven Harbor
Mark gets a quickie haircut
South Haven's riverfront
Fun on the beach
A kayaker tests the waters
Funky raised boardwalk in town
Drawbridge to the inner harbor
Catching ducks - on film
Twilight over South Haven Harbor
Pirate ship ghosts past the lighthouse
Lovers watch the sunset
Cool cars cruise the beach
Wedding photos
I'll take it!
Mark would prefer this one
Dad at the wheel -- just this one time.
South Haven, Michigan
Early June, 2009 - We left Elkhart, Indiana and started up the west
coast of Michigan. We were in search of cute little waterfront towns, and
there is an abundance along Lake Michigan, each unique and
welcoming. The first was South Haven. The town straddles a small
harbor and a river channel lined with a pretty boardwalk leading down to
a small lighthouse. We walked through town, admiring the small shops
and catching glimpses of the boats in the harbor.
Mark needed a haircut, so we turned in at the barber pole and he
got a quick clip. With his new summer do making him feel lighter
and freer, we headed out to stroll along the riverfront.
Boats of all kinds were cruising in and out of the harbor, and as we
approached the pier we found there were two terrific beaches on either
side of the channel entrance.
We kicked our shoes off to feel the Michigan sand squeeze
between our toes, and watched the action on the beach.
Teenagers were strutting their stuff all around us, with babes in
bikinis perfecting their runway walks up and down the pier.
Back in town, we found a fun and funky wooden walkway
that climbed up and down and around the harborfront
shops.
There were little
eateries everywhere,
and a drawbridge
leading to the inner
harbor.
Big boats and small
boats maneuvered around each other,
and a young girl in a dinghy followed a
family of ducks trying to catch them
with her camera.
We found a small motel on the edge of
town, and when we commented on the
charm of this town she said, "Well, you
have to go down to the waterfront at
sunset. Don't miss it. The sun sets at
about 9:30, so get there
about an hour before and
you'll have plenty of time."
We've seen such stunning sunsets in the southwest, just
peering out our trailer's windows, that her insistence that
we go back to town and down to the beach for the sunset
that night struck me as kind of amusing. The sky didn't
look especially promising for any kind of colorful display,
but we followed her advice anyway and returned to town
as the sun was slipping towards the lake.
What a spectacle awaited us. We began walking towards the pier and
found ourselves surrounded by throngs of people heading down to the
beach to watch the sunset: young couples hand-in-hand; families with
kids romping around in excited circles; old folks with a hand on the
railing. Everyone in town was making their way to the waterfront.
A restored pirate ship that had been
taking people out on lake rides all day
had one last sunset dinner cruise on
tap, and we watched her stately form
slip past the lighthouse in the dimming
light.
Some people spread out on picnic blankets, and
others just enjoyed the quiet moments as the sun
worked its magic. Every swing and slide in the
playground was in motion with kids crawling all
over, and behind them the cars cruised up and
down and round and round the streets.
There was a car show scheduled for the next day,
and quite a few antique convertibles
showed up early as their proud owners
cruised the beach the way they did fifty
years ago.
A newlywed couple posed for
wedding shots along the pier
with the lighthouse in the
background, as the sun sank
lower and lower towards the
lake.
The ice cream stand was a hub of
activity all evening, and the evidence
was everywhere as nearby folks
wandered slightly off kilter down the
pier, head sideways, tongue licking,
while their eyes stared around their cones at the sinking sun.
Photographers of all ages staked out places on the beach to catch the sun slipping into the
water. None of us cared about the sand filling our shoes as we stomped through the dunes to
get the best angle. It was a great evening and a great show.
Once the sun had fallen into the distant waves, everyone on the beach quietly packed it up and
headed home. As we walked back up towards town, surrounded by smiling people carrying
folded blankets and empty coolers, I felt as though we'd just left an outdoor concert. Nature's
symphony. The innkeeper had been right: we didn't want to
miss the sunset that night.
The next day was the car show. Again, the whole town came
out for the event. The streets were lined with beautifully
restored cars and admiring fans. Mark's roots from the motor
city sure showed as we wandered from car to car and he
pointed out the finer points of each engine. A peak under the
hood and he would suddenly ooh and aah and give me a
history of the engine and tell me which of his friends had
owned such a beautiful marvel of engineering back in the day.
To me they were all just shiny cars from another era, alhough I did like
the sporty little red Corvette convertible. Mark's taste ran more
towards the muscle cars that just looked like plain old sedans to me.
But then he'd drop to his knees and point out the wrinkle wall tires and
tell of the time his friend put a $10 bill on the dash board and challeged
Mark to catch it as they peeled out. Plastered to the passenger seat as
the rocket launched, there was no way he could reach that bill when it
flew up in the air.
We got talking with a fellow showing off his dragster. He used to race it himself, but now it was a
father-son project, with him supplying the bucks and know-how and his son taking the wheel at the
races.
At the end of the day there was a parade
through town and we had a chance to see
each car in all its glory. Some revved their
engines as they went by, although our
buddy in the dragster got a tow through
town instead. There were prizes of all
kinds, and almost every car won
something. We left South Haven in high
spirits and made our way north a few miles
to Saugatuck.
Soo Locks – Freighter Elevator
The Soo Locks are the four waterways to the left. The
largest lock, the Poe, is second from the left.
A small powerboat enters the lock from Lake Superior.
The gates close behind the boat so it is now sitting in
a private bathtub.
The boat takes a long line from the line handlers so it
can tie up to the side of the lock during its descent.
The water has drained out of the lock and the gates
open so the boat can emerge onto Lake Huron.
The 1,000' Walter J. McCarthy appears on Lake Huron
McCarthy aims for the Poe Lock which will raise it 21 feet to the level of
Lake Superior.
This is the biggest sized ship the locks can handle and it takes a
long time to get it situated in the lock.
The gates open for Maritime Trader, a smaller 670'
freighter which has shown up on Lake Superior.
Maritime Trader glides into the lock.
Line handlers appear on deck and on shore.
These guys make it look easy.
A line is walked towards the cleat on shore.
A line handler loops the line over a cleat.
Additional lines are led to other cleats.
Almost ready to close the gates behind the Maritime
Trader, we can see the bow of the Walter J. McCarthy
in the next lock over.
Maritime Trader begins its 21' descent from Lake
Superior to Lake Huron.
Meanwhile, Walter J. McCarthy is being raised 21'
from Lake Huron to Lake Superior.
The bridge towers over the back end of the ship.
The McCarthy rises higher and
higher while the Maritime Trader
sinks lower and lower.
The McCarthy emerges through the doors of the lock
onto Lake Superior
McCarthy steams off into Lake Superior.
Meanwhile, Maritime Trader turns on its engines and
churns the water in its lock as it heads out onto Lake
Michigan.
Maritime Trader heads off on the rest of her
journey on Lake Huron.
The Soo Locks: Lake Superior-Lake Huron, MI
Late June, 2009 - The maritime traditions run deep in the Great Lakes,
and after visiting the Hessel area and its many reminders of the wooden
boats of old, we took a trip to the Soo Locks where modern freighters
transit between Lake Superior and Lake Huron.
The Great Lakes offer a relatively easy way to transport goods from one
region to another. Some 11,000 freighters ply the waters each year,
moving tons of raw materials, mostly iron ore, coal, stone and grain (in
2008 shipping was down 45%). Lake Superior sits a little higher above
sea level than all the other lakes, and in the early days of the fur
trappers, the only way to get your canoe from Lake Superior to Lake
Huron was to carry it past the rapids of the St. Mary's River. This
method of "jumping" the river is said to have inspired the French to
name the area "Sault Ste. Marie" ("sault" meaning "jump"). In 1797 the
first lock system was built (on the Canadian side) so that ships could
float between Lake Superior and Lake Huron, and eventually the French
"sault" morphed into "Soo."
There is a fantastic visitors center and large viewing area at the Soo
Locks. As we stood there waiting for some action, suddenly a small
open powerboat with four people in it drove into the lock.
We watched with fascination as the doors slowly closed behind the little
boat and a line handler gave them a line to tie onto their boat.
Slowly the water in this bathtub-like lock began to drain out and the
little boat disapeared from view. The locks operate entirely on gravity,
as water either pours into the lock from Lake Superior or drains out of
the lock into Lake Huron. Eventually the gates opened at the other end
of the lock and we caught sight of the little boat motoring onto Lake
Huron. What a cool excursion for them! It had taken all of 15 minutes
or so, and we found out later that for recreational boaters transiting the
locks doesn't cost a dime. Just show up and the magic happens!
We were satisfied to have seen Soo Locks in action, and we were
about to leave when the lady at the visitors center said, "You really
should stick around. There are going to be two huge freighters in
these locks at the same time in about an hour." One of the ships
would be the 32-year-old, 1,000 foot freighter Walter J. McCarthy, one
of just forty ships of that size that works the Great Lakes.
Before long, the McCarthy showed up in the distance,
gliding towards us from Lake Huron. It would be
entering the Poe lock, the largest of the locks and the
second lock out from our viewing area. It was traveling
from Lake Huron into Lake Superior, so it would be
riding the lock system's "elevator" up 21 feet to the
level of Lake Superior.
It fit very snugly into the lock, and the handlers took an
especially long time getting the ship situated before they
closed the doors behind it. It looked to me like there was
barely a foot or two to spare between the two ends of the ship
and the doors at either end of the lock.
Meanwhile, the
Maritime Trader,
a smaller ship of
just 594 feet,
showed up in
the distance
coming in the
opposite direction
from Lake Superior.
The gates opened
and the ship slid into
place.
The line handlers on the ship and on
the shore loosely looped the lines
around enormous cleats. It all
seemed very casual and easy for
them, but the hundred or so people in
the viewing area were all hanging
over the railings, excitedly snapping
photos every few seconds.
Once positioned correctly, the doors
of the locks were closed behind the
Maritime Trader, the water began to
drain out of the lock, and the ship
slowly descended to the level of Lake
Huron.
Looking across the deck of the
Maritime Trader, we could see more
and more of the McCarthy in the
next lock as water filled that lock
and the ship was raised to the level
of Lake Superior.
Eventually, the water in the lock holding the McCarthy was even with
the water of Lake Superior, the doors of the lock opened, and the
freighter steamed out.
Simultaneously, the Maritime Trader had descended all the way
down, and the doors of its lock opened onto Lake Huron. The water
in the lock churned behind it as it started its engines and moved out in
the opposite direction onto Lake Huron.
A few days after we left the Soo Locks, construction crews
broke ground on a pair of dams that will hold back the waters of Lake Superior for the next few
years while the two oldest and smallest locks are rebuilt into a single brand new big one. Only
one of the three currently active locks can handle a 1,000 foot ship (the lock where the McCarthy
had been), so this new lock will allow more of the 1,000 footers to get between the two lakes.
Interestingly, the same thing is happening at the Panama Canal. Rather than three single lock
systems like the Soo Locks, the Panama
Canal is a huge system of three
channels that moves ships through a
series of 26 locks separated by a lake.
It takes the ships up 13 levels through
the first 13 locks, sends them across the
lake under their own power and then
lowers them 13 levels through 13 more
locks to the ocean on the other side. In Panama, a new lock system is
being built parallel to the other three to support the mammoth modern
supertankers that ply the world's oceans today.
Our visit to the Soo Locks capped off our time in the Upper Peninsula. It
was time to make our way south again, this time along Michigan's eastern
coast where we visited some choice shoreside spots along Lake Huron.
North Lake Michigan – Alluring Coastal Towns
Charlevoix, Michigan...
...flowers and charm
Charlevoix's Harborfront park
Summertime !!
Lighthouses on a park bench
Charlevoix Lighthouse
A boat waits for the drawbridge to open.
The channel leads from Lake Michigan to Charlevoix
Harbor
The drawbridge lets sailboats pass through.
The town sports a beachside playground.
Lake Michigan's clear water: turquoise and inviting.
Lilacs were in bloom.
Petunia beds escorted us out of town for miles.
Harbor Springs, a sparkling gem on Lake Michigan
Local kids drop their bikes and bags to take sailing lessons.
Beautiful wooden boats were everywhere.
Harbor Springs' waterfront park
Have a seat and stay a while...
Large equestrian estates fringe Harbor Springs.
The Tunnel of Trees
Macinaw City, Gateway to Macinac Island.
Charlevoix, Harbor Springs & The Tunnel of Trees
Mid-June, 2009 - We continued our tour along the beautiful Lake Michigan coast, leaving
Traverse City and making our way to Charlevoix. I was amazed at how many quaint,
peaceful and picturesque villages perch along these shores. Charlevoix has a lovely park
along the harbor in the center of town, and it was lined with bright petunias in beds along
the ground and in hanging flower baskets.
A small stretch of grass leads to a small marina,
and we walked along the docks soaking up the sun
and talking to whatever boat owners we could find.
There is an outdoor concert pavilion as well, and we
could imagine many a balmy summer night sitting
there listening to music.
Some kids were making the most of the park's fountains, trying to
stomp out the various spigots of water as they shot up and then
clustering around the big fountain. I could sympathize with the little girl
on the edge who was freezing.
There is a
sense of
whimsy in this
town, and one
park bench is
adorned with
colorful
paintings of
Lake
Michigan's
lighthouses.
We found the
Charlevoix
lighthouse at
the end of a
very long
channel that
leads from the open lake waters to the tiny inner harbor. It was a perfect
day for strolling along the channel's boardwalk and, as we walked, a few
sailboats made their way in and out of the harbor.
A drawbridge separates the channel from the inner harbor, and when it is
scheduled to open all the sailboats scurry to get through.
At the end of
the channel
there is a town
beach with a
playground. I
could easily
imagine many
happy summer
days spent
here.
Everywhere we
went I was startled by the clarity of the water. Lake Michigan's water is
turquoise, much like the Caribbean, and is extremely clear.
Lilacs were in bloom. They are one of my favorite spring flowers, and
they had already faded down south around Detroit. We both buried are
noses in their fragrant clusters.
All of these
towns were
places where
we could have
easily stayed
for the
summer, but
we pushed
north on our
tour. The
charming, whimsical air of Charlevoix stayed with us for a long time. The
road out of town was lined on both sides with beautiful petunia beds. It
made for a lovely drive. After watching this continuous flower bed escort
us for at least three miles, I just shook my head in amazement. That's a
lot of flowers. This town is truly loved by its residents.
The next stop was Harbor Springs, a tiny village on the
water's edge. It is an upscale town that boasts some
beautiful Victorian homes that were meticulously
maintained.
We arrived just as the
kids were running down
from the yacht club to
prepare their little
sailboats for sailing
lessons.
The area was lined with bikes and backpacks, and the
kids made quick work of getting the sails up and getting
the boats off the dock. What a priceless, fun filled
summer lay ahead for those kids.
One thing we had noticed in every harbor in our travels was the large
numbers of wooden boats, all in beautiful condition. Harbor Springs was
no exception, and this boat really turned our heads. The woodwork was
pristine, with shiny varnish that was deep and lustrous.
We didn't realize until a few days later that one of the nation's three
major wooden boat schools was just a hundred miles north in the
Upper Peninsula. No wonder the many gorgeous wooden boats here
in Harbor Springs were so beautifully crafted and maintained. There
was plenty of skill and knowledge about wooden boats in the area.
Like so many other waterfront villages along this coast, Harbor Springs has a pretty park
overlooking the bay. Yet again we felt we could stop and spend the rest of the summer right
here in blissful tranquility.
This town is very posh, and not only do
the fortunate residents spend time on
their boats, but they also enjoy
equestrian entertainment, tennis and
other country club pursuits during their
leisure time.
We passed some beautiful country
estates on the way out of town. In many
ways it felt like we had just spent a few
hours observing a way of life that may
be fast disappearing in this oh-so-busy
workaday world of ours. It felt like a
gentleman's town from
another era, especially with
so many stunning wooden
boats dating back to the mid
1900's.
Route 119 leading out of
town is one of Michigan's
scenic byways called the
Tunnel of Trees. For an
hour we drove along
through this winding,
green one-lane tunnel,
weaving our way under a
thick green canopy of
leaves. Occasionally there were glimpses of the lake on our left or of small log cabins tucked
back into the woods on our right, but for the most part it was a curvy, narrow road, encased in
tree limbs.
At first the trees
were all deciduous,
but as we drove we
came across a few
clusters of skinny
pines. Some historic plaques explained a little about the
area. One spot, Devil's Elbow, had been a spring in a
ravine where the Indians believed local spirits made their
presence known in the wee hours of the night. Another,
L'Arbre Croche, was the name the French gave to this
whole Tunnel of Trees region, so named because of a
huge crooked tree that towered above everything.
We emerged into daylight and made our way towards Macinaw City, the northernmost point of Michigan's mittened southern
peninsula. It is the "Gateway to Macinac Island," the famed island where only foot and bicycle traffic are allowed. However, we
took the other road and headed over the Macinaw Bridge to Michigan's Upper Peninsula instead.