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

Northern Lake Michigan.

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.