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.
Upper Peninsula (MI) – Cute Towns & Fine Craftsmanship
Macinaw Bridge
View from our motel room.
St. Ignace Lighthouse at dusk.
Welcome to Hessel
An urban bookstore in the
most remote setting.
100 year old lilac bush in all its glory.
Woodland jewels: lillies-of-the-valley.
Hessel is a quiet village.
Lazy afternoons watching the small bay over a beer.
A 1942 Chris Craft perfectly restored.
Great Lakes Boat Building School
All students build a flat-bottomed skiff.
Planks waiting to become boats.
Yet another coat of varnish dries...
A 32' footer is prepped for
shipment to Harbor Springs
Pasties -- meat-and-veggie pies I first
tasted in Australia
Snowmobiles are the best
vehicle come winter.
Sprawling farms grace the landscape.
Two sandhill cranes poke along
down a dirt road.
Lake Superior's forbidding shoreline.
Lake Superior Ice-water. How did those girls
manage to go in all the way?
Upper Peninsula - St. Ignace & Hessel
Mid-June, 2009 - We left the cute, warm, Northern Lake Michigan coastal towns and ventured over the Macinaw Bridge to the
rather forbidding Upper Peninsula. The bridge is a magnificent structure, and as we crossed it Mark told me a little about this other
side of Michigan. The "Yoopers," inhabitants of the UP, are a breed apart. They can withstand truly frigid winters and take great
pride in being from a vast land that shares little with the urban jungle of Detroit or the gentrified small towns of the warmer regions
to the south. There is a ruggedness here, an almost frontier quality, that increases dramatically the further you get from the
Macinaw Bridge.
We didn't get too far. The
small town of St. Ignace
beckoned to us just after we
crossed the bridge.
Bypassing the very elegant
waterfront Best Western that
advertised, "We aren't
expensive, we just look that
way," we stayed instead at a
small inn overlooking the
lighthouse. Several motels
were closed permanently, and
those that were open had few
patrons.
We were the only visitors at our motel for the night, and we had our pick
of any room we wanted. Given that opportunity, I wanted to make sure
our picture window framed the lighthouse just right. Mark and the inn
keeper shared some sidelong glances and rolled eyes as I vacillated
between two rooms, popping in and out of each one several times. "You
should see her pick out a table at a restaurant..." Mark sighed with a
smile.
Later on he agreed
it was worth it: as
the sun set and the
lighthouse slowly
winked at us
during the evening,
we both grabbed
our cameras.
St. Ignace has
a long wooden
boardwalk that
meanders along the edge of the harbor. We walked along it the next
morning and found a swan and its babies paddling in the water.
A seagull surveyed the scene and eyed me up for breadcrumbs. I
threw out a few and within seconds I was surrounded by the whole
flock and engaged in a wild game of catch. I would throw pieces of
bread as high in the air as I could, and the gulls would swoop by and
effortlessly catch the bread in mid-air in an amazing aerobatic
display.
Back in Traverse City, along the
northern part of Lake Michigan, we
had met Liz Fels who was staging an
exhibit of her photography. She was
from the tiny town of Hessel in the
UP, and she recommended that we
stop by her bookstore/gallery when
we got up that way. Hessel's
welcome sign made the town seem
like a happening place, but when we
got there we found a lovely, sleepy
little hamlet that boasts just a handful
of shops and an eatery or two.
It wasn't hard to find "The Village
Idiom," Liz's bookstore/gallery, and
what a find it was. For any
enthusiastic reader spending time in
the raw lands of the UP, this store,
brimming with used books, is a rare jewel.
Not only is there space to unwind your mind inside with shelves of
unusual titles and a gallery of pretty photographs, but there is space
outside to take your new read, relax, and check it out under the sun.
When I commented on how beautiful all the lilacs were around town, she
took me to her back yard where there is a 100 year old lilac tree. It was
immense and it was in full bloom.
I had a field day with flowers in this town. A few doors down from the
bookstore I found a huge patch of lilies-of-the-valley.
You don't spot these forest gems too often, and Mark and I
both laid down to get a whiff of their heady scent. A group of
cyclists going by stopped and gathered around us to see why
we were sprawled out on the sidewalk. Ah, they nodded to
each other knowingly. Lillies-of-the-valley... Of course!
Further down towards the harbor I found more flowers planted
along a whimsical, nautical fence.
The pace in this village is slooow, and
the air has a sense of contentment
and remoteness.
Visitors come here to let the cares of
the world slip away, and there is no
tourist hype or brochures of
prospective activities.
Long, quiet happy hours spent
overlooking the tiny bay and watching
the rare person working on their boat
is about as busy as it gets.
Hessel is the home
of a big antique
wooden boat show,
and we found a few
down in the
boatyard. Too
bad we wouldn't
be here in
August to see
the event.
A fellow at the
boatyard
proudly showed
us Shotsie, a
1942 Chris Craft that looks like it just came out of the showroom. The
rich varnish, immaculate engine and new-looking controls inspired
images of young people of another era enjoying an afternoon on the
water.
We strolled around the water's edge and admired several beautiful old boats. I can remember
boats like these (not quite as pristine!) from when I was a very little girl on the beach in New
England, and Mark remembers aunts and uncles taking him for rides in boats like these on Lake
St. Clair.
A little further north of Hessel, in Cedarville, we found the heart of this wooden boat culture: The
Great Lakes Boat Building School. Set in a huge barnlike building, the doors were thrown wide
to let in the sun and spring air, and we peeked inside.
Offering an intensive two-year
program, students attend all-day
classes five days a week (with
summers off). They range from
young people looking for career skills
to retirees looking for personal
fulfillment. The $10,000/year tuition
puts you in a class with just a handful
of other students, mastering this craft
under the attentive tutelage of highly
qualified instructors.
In Year 1, all of the students build
the same boat, a flat bottom
double-ended skiff, which the
school then sells when it is
completed. Selling these exquisitely crafted boats
supplements the school's income and helps keep the
tuition from being even higher.
There were boats in several stages of completion, and
outside was a gorgeous 32' boat that had taken two
different student classes two years to build.
The first class had laid the planks and shaped the hull,
and the second class had done the finishing work.
Now it was on a trailer, ready to go to Harbor Springs, home of the
lucky folks who had commissioned the school to build it.
Stopping for a snack, we discovered a local delicacy in the UP is
"pasties." I hadn't seen these meat-pie treats since I was in
Australia in the early 1990's. Down Under they call these yummy
personal-sized flakey crust encased meat and veggie pies "pahs-
ties." Here in the UP they were called "pass-ties" but they were the
same delicious mini-meals that were probably brought to both
regions by Cornish immigrants many years ago.
We drove straight north across the UP, making a bee-line for Lake Superior. The
temperature had dropped as soon as we crossed the bridge into the UP, and there were
snowmobile signs everywhere. We even saw someone wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with an
image of a snowmobile and the words: "Summer Sucks." This was Cold Country! Brrr.
There are endless paths through the woods where you can snowmobile in the winter, and lots of
wide open farmland as well.
Mark spotted two large
Sandhill cranes strolling down
the road. As with so much of
the wildlife we see, we tried to
get them to stop and pose so
we could get a clear photo,
but they had other ideas.
We had seen two of the Great
Lakes so far: Lake Michigan
and Lake Erie, and I wanted
to dip a finger in Lake
Superior. We drove straight
to the first coastal opening we
could find and ran down to the beach. A family was
coming up the trail from the beach, the kids shivering in
wet bathing suits with beach towels wrapped around them.
One little girl told us excitedly (through chattering blue lips), "I went in four times!" She was very
proud of her feat, and once I put a finger in I could see why. It was like putting your hand in the
water that collects around the ice in a cooler. My hand turned red and ached instantly.
I am sure the Lake Superior coast is stunning, but that little bit was enough for me. We turned
south and headed back to our cozy hotel overlooking the lighthouse in St. Ignace, planning our
next outing to the Soo Locks.
San Francisco & LA – The Sailboat Hunt is On!
Emery Cove Yacht Harbor
Some peope cruise in high style
Unusual flowers in bloom along the shoreline
Extensive beds of ice plant flowers
accompanied us on our walks
Ventura California coastline
A harbor seal teases a gull with a fish he caught
Mentryville barn and chicken coop, built 1890's
Roses in front of Charles Mentry's house
Oil well equipment
Lizard in Pico Canyon
Butterflies and flowers
Unusual flowers
They were very large
View from one of the peaks
The trail is outlined in rocks
Shams, trail blazer and trail builder
Surrounded by chain link fence til it settles in, this Valley
Oak made the Guinness Book when it was moved 1/4 mile.
Emeryville & Valencia, California
April 18-May 13, 2009 - From Arizona, we ran up and down the
coast of California in mad pursuit of a sailboat. We were driven
by the vision of a dream that had been developing for many
months: traveling with our trailer each summer, as we have
been, and traveling by sailboat in the tropics each winter.
We're both converted desert rats, most recently from Phoenix, Arizona, and
we like it warm. How warm? A fellow once told me he turns on the air
conditioning in his rig when the indoor temperature hits 79 degrees. For us,
that's when we start getting really comfortable. Our a/c doesn't go on until it
hits 90.
We have struggled to find a warm, uncrowded place to wander during each
of our two winters of fulltiming. We have ranged between southern Arizona
and Florida, but have done too much shivering. We aren't alone in this
quandary. When fulltimers meet each other, one of the first questions they
always ask is: where do you spend the winter? At first I didn't understand
why the seasoned veterans kept asking us that question, but now, after
wearing way too many layers for two winters, I understand.
Cruising in a sailboat
has been a longtime
dream for me, and
Mark has slowly come
to share that dream
too.
However, there are a lot of details to work out. Shifting between two homes is
not easy, especially when each has to be put in storage for a period of time.
So, as our prospective boat purchases in California fell through, one by one,
this past spring, we tried to be more philosophical than disappointed, taking it
as a sign that we just weren't ready yet. As we talked through the nuts-and-
bolts of our plan -- getting beyond our dreams of gazing at the scenic mountain
backdrops behind our rig each summer and snorkeling amid eagle rays and
sea turtles alongside our boat each winter -- we realized that our plan was very fuzzy.
This frustrating discovery came to us as we froze our tails off on San Francisco Bay
in May. It was a bitter surprise to find that the Bay Area rarely gets much above 60
degrees at that time of year, and we got several weeks of almost daily rain to boot.
We got to know the tiny Emeryville peninsula on the east bay next to Oakland quite
well. It is the one sliver of beauty in an otherwise industrial landscape of smoke
stacks, snarled traffic and congested urban living.
The marina there has an
interesting array of boats,
and we enjoyed getting to
know some of the
liveaboards who make it
their home. Those folks
are some sturdy stock, as
the wind blew at 25-30
mph every day across the
bay, the fog and dark
skies hung around relentlessly, and the cold was that bone-chilling kind
whose icy fingers sneak past any and all layers of clothing you put on.
One retired couple had lived on their boat in the Bay for 17 years.
We took many walks, jogs and bike rides around the area, and
especially enjoyed the pink flowers on the ice plants that were in
bloom during our visit. We left boatless, however, and made our
way down the coast to Ventura. There we enjoyed a long stroll
along the beach and watched a harbor seal teasing a seagull. He
had just caught a huge fish, and he repeatedly surfaced with the
fish in his mouth, taunting the gull. Each time he lured the gull to
approach him, he would duck under the water out of reach. This
went on for quite a while until the gull finally gave up and flew off.
In a way, we felt like that gull, tantalized by the prospect of a sailing
dream, but taunted by the vicious boat selling industry that barricades it.
We started looking for a boat as wide-eyed innocents to the boat buying
process. In just a few weeks we got a bath-of-fire introduction to the
cutthroat world of lying, cheating and stealing that is sailboat brokerage
in the Golden State.
The stress of dealing with ruthless, unscrupulous brokers desperate for
a deal in a stalled industry in a failing economy finally got to us, and we
left. Unfortunately, the stress chased us down I-5, and while turning in
to stop at Pyramid Lake, north of Los Angeles, for the night, the back of
the trailer lightly brushed the guardrail. The damage didn't look like much,
but upon assessment by RV collision repair specialists in nearby Valencia
(what luck that there was such a place nearby!), it would take 7 weeks to
fix, most of that time spent waiting for parts.
This news took a while to digest. We stayed in Valencia, north of the Los
Angeles tangle of freeways and insanity, for a few days, deciding what to
do. We couldn't stay in the trailer once they began the repair work, as
their insurance did not allow it. However, our insurance gave us some
money for "emergency" hotels. We took a few day trips around the area
as we mulled over our options and waited for our insurance claim to be
processed.
The Valencia area is desert: no fog, hot
days and cool nights. We hiked up Pico
Canyon, starting at the base in
"Mentryville," a former oil boomtown
founded by Charles Mentry who dug
California's first oil well here.
Some of the old equipment from this
first oil well still stands today. Oil well Pico #4 was
the longest running oil well in the world when it
was capped (dug in 1876, capped in 1990). It
was such a success that it prompted the formation of the Pacific
Coast Oil Company that became Standard Oil of CA which was later
acquired by Chevron.
As we hiked up the canyon we passed some
unusual critters and flowers on the way. The
view at the top was well worth the climb.
As we walked we found the trail was neatly
marked by carefully placed stones. Someone
had taken great pains to outline the best route
to the top.
Hiking down we met a mountain biker on his way up. He introduced himself as
Shams, originally from Afghanistan many years ago. He asked if we'd been to the summit. Not quite. He seemed disappointed,
explaining how the very steep section that had stopped us was actually very short and the view beyond that was spectacular. He
then explained that he had built the trail over the last 14 years, grooming it, creating little stone outlines for the paths, so he and his
son and others would have a nice place to mountain bike. There's a man who has made the most of his new home.
We drove to another area and saw the most enormous tree. Standing back to admire it, I
noticed another person taking photographs of it too.
We got talking, and I learned that this tree, a Valley Oak, had been moved 1/4 mile to
make way for a road, and that he, Lee Lumis, had been the horticultural consultant
overseeing the move. It took 18 months to relocate the tree, and required 126 hydraulic
lifts, 24" I-beams and a 43' diameter box for the root ball. They had started the project and
then had to wait 6 months when the tree suddenly budded out and couldn't be moved. He
had rotated it a bit from its original orientation, but it looked truly majestic in its new home.
Even though we were here by accident -- because of an accident -- we could still look at
each other and say, "what a cool area!" As we gathered our thoughts about how best to
handle the upcoming seven weeks, we finally decided to fly out to Michigan to visit Mark's
family and do some sightseeing in a state we probably would never reach by fifth wheel.
Lake St. Clair, Michigan – Quick Trip Abroad
Big Boys are everywhere...
...Coney Island Hot Dogs are too
Despite the depressing news on TV, Spring had sprung on Belle Isle in downtown Detroit
Harsen's Island Ferry holds 9 or so cars
B&B in San Souci
Riverside Grocery
Storefront in San Souci
Smoke stacks on the Canadian side of the St. Clair River
Pretty homes along the river too...
Pt. Huron, Michigan (US) - Sarnia, Ontario (Canada)
Bridge
Mark buys us a basket of Bridge Fries - tasty!
Classic red barns dot the landscape
Roadside farm stand on Lake Erie
Score! Baked goods galore and veggie garden
treasures too.
Trapping invasive Gobi fish for experimentation at the
University.
Lake Erie
Lake Erie harborfront
Returning to Detroit via Windsor
Lake St. Clair, Michigan
Late May, 2009 - We arrived from the Burbank, California airport to a wonderful, warm family
reception in Detroit, Michigan. Mark hadn't lived there in 30 years, and since then had made
only short visits, so we had many great get-togethers ahead of us. In between, we wanted to
squeeze in some sight-seeing, as I had never seen much of Michigan, and Mark's motorcycle
trips around the state were back in the days when he had long hair, short shorts, and Rock
hadn't yet been labeled "Classic."
We arrived in Detroit at an especially dark hour in the city's
history. Chrysler was in bankruptcy, GM was headed that
way soon, and most people we visited were out of work.
Unfortunately, I forgot my camera as we toured some of the
amazing mansions that were built by the auto industry's
icons in the days when their profits flowed like wine. The
sultans of that industry lived better than kings. The opulence was breathtaking. I could only
wonder what the factory workers thought in the early 1900's as they saw these castle-like
estates going up. No wonder the unions became so strong: the profits were staggering and
the leaders weren't into sharing.
The auto industry was a cash cow that kept giving and giving and giving, for decades. Eventually everyone had a piece of the pie,
and as the news anchors droned on about the industry's current woes, like the retirees losing their vision and dental benefits
(gasp!), we heard a few back stories about Generous Motors that flushed out the details. From more than one person we learned
how folks on the line used to punch in at work, head to the bar for the day, and then punch out. Or punch in, find a quiet spot to
sleep through their shift, and then punch out. The party lasted for almost a century. I couldn't help but wonder: how would the
founders of those companies feel if they saw their city today? Where would their industry be now if those early leaders had instilled
a culture of productivity, cooperation and true generosity instead of one based on greed?
The story of Detroit's malaise filled the airwaves each night. A mansion
that had sold in recent years for $15 million got auctioned off during our
visit for less than $5 million. Half of the gorgeous estates we drove past
along the Grosse Pointe waterfront were for sale. The once
unstoppable flow of profits had dried up.
Eager for some
pretty scenery, we
drove a circle loop
around Lake St.
Clair, the Detroit area
lake that sits between
Lake Huron to the
north and Lake Erie
to the south, dividing
its shores between
the US and Canada.
Harsen's Island was
our first stop, and we drove onto the ferry for the 10 minute ride to the
island. Harsen's island is very rural at one end, with graceful homes
spread out along the lake.
At the other end, the village of San
Souci beckons visitors with charming
victorian B&B's, cute shops and a laid
back air.
We stopped at the Riverside Grocery
for lunch, watching some kids rolling by
on their bikes and a pair of young
lovers sitting side
by side gazing at
the boats in the
water. This
seemed a perfect
place for languid
summer afternoons.
A little further up the coast we
walked around Marine City and
watched another ferry boat carrying
people across the river to and from
Canada. We heard later that this is
the best place to cross the border,
as the lines are short. Along the
river, both the Canadian side and US side have stretches
of gracious homes mixed with stretches of heavy
industry.
After spending some time on both sides of this river, it
seemed that there is a strong unity that bonds the people of this region, regardless of the
presence of an international border between them. We saw homes flying both countries' flags
off their porches, and we saw posters with both flags crossed and the words: "United we
stand." So it was odd, and sad, to see several US border patrol cars sitting on the US side
facing Canada. We are accustomed to seeing them in southern California and Arizona, but
here they seemed out of
place.
Up in Port Huron we took
the bridge across to
Canada's small city of
Sarnia, Ontario. The
lady at the visitors center
suggested we get some
Bridge Fries from one of
the vendors under the
bridge. Served Canadian
style with vinegar, we found
her recommendation was
right on. Yum!
Heading down the Canadian side of the St.
Clair River we felt ourselves relaxing. The
homes are nicely spread out. We stopped
at Bogey's Inn near the village of Sombra
for the night and ended up in their largest
suite for their regular motel room rate. "Last
year at this time I was booked solid," the
proprietor said with frustration. The night
we stayed we were the only tourists there.
We veered away from Lake St. Clair the next morning to catch a glimpse of Lake Erie. The fertile
farmlands stretched for miles with classic red barns and homesteads dotting the green vistas.
Suddenly the beautiful shores of Lake Erie opened up before us. The lake was turquoise and clear,
and the homes were perched high above the lake with rolling grass lawns stretching down to the water.
We stopped at a farm stand, thinking we'd grab some apples to snack on. As
we approached, the luscious aroma of baked goodies wafted through the
door. We stepped inside and were suddenly surrounded by pies, buns,
breads, cookies and the like -- along with fresh picked healthy veggies. At
the sight of those pies Mark was in heaven. "Wow! I'm going to get one of
everything," he joked with the lady at the counter as his eyes darted from
table to table. I wandered around looking for the one perfect snack, admiring
the rows of maple syrups and jams while I mulled over getting a muffin or a
scone or a mini sweet loaf. When I walked over to the register with my lone
apple bran muffin, there was Mark with "one of everything" -- and two of
several things -- laid out across the counter in front of him. He grinned at me
sheepishly and shrugged. How often do you find a gold mine like this?
We piled our boatload of baked goods into the car and had a small
feast of pies and cookies while overlooking the lake's crystal waters
across the street. There was an opening that led to the water, and we
wandered down to dip our toes in the lake. Some University students
were trapping Gobi fish, an invasive non-native fish that they want to
remove from the lake. They were
taking the Gobies back to the lab to
try to find some natural deterrent to
limit the spread of this unwanted
fish. Unfortunately, though, the
Gobi's were proving especially
tricky to trap.
We stopped in a small harbor town
to stretch our legs, and continued
our slow journey back towards Windsor, Ontario and the
Detroit River. Faced with another border crossing back to
Detroit, and not sure exactly what the rules were regarding
baked goods crossing the border, we stopped and gobbled
down as many of our remaining pies and pastries as we
could. The strawberry-rhubarb pie was out of this world, and
we each slyly unbuttoned the top button on our pants to
make room for more. But even stuffed to the gills, we still
had some pastries and pies to go. We just had to risk losing
our booty the border. Of course, in the end, although every
car in line at the border had its spare tire removed and
inspected, causing an hours-long traffic jam at the tunnel, no
one asked if we were bringing in any contraband pies.
After a few more days of family gatherings, we headed out
on a slightly longer sojourn into Ohio and Indiana.
Lake Huron MI – Hydroplane Races and the Joseph S. Fay Shipwreck
Forty Mile Point Lighthouse
Peace and calm reign on this shipwreck strewn shore
Pilothouse from the freighter Calcite
Kitchen inside 40 Mile Point Lighthouse
Circular staircase up to the light
The Joseph S Fay in drydock before the
shipwreck.
Remains of the wooden freighter
Joseph S. Fay.
Rogers City Michigan
An RV Park lines the East Tawas beach
Party Time!
Hydroplane boat races in Bay City
Coming in for a pit stop
Trailers and support crews for the race boats
A raceboat is launched after some quick repairs
The race is started from the dock in waves.
Up close and personal
The German immigrant town of
Frankenmuth
The Bavarian Inn served 20 million dinners in 100
years
Lake Huron, Michigan
Late June, 2009 - We left the chilly northern reaches of Michigan's
Upper Peninsula and the Soo Locks to travel down the Lake Huron
coast on the eastern shores of Michigan. Lake Huron is the second
largest of the great lakes, and it didn't take us long to find a beautiful
spot: Forty Mile Point Lighthouse. Built in 1896, it was one of a chain
of lighthouses that guided the many merchant ships through these
difficult waters.
Originally named La Mer Douce (the sweet, or freshwater, sea) by
French explorers, the sweet sea of Lake Huron has displayed a mean
streak when it comes to deadly storms. As of 2006, 1,200 shipwrecks
had been recorded in these waters.
Looking out on the placid turquoise waters, fringed with tall,
swaying grasses, it was hard to imagine such violent storms and
frightening wrecks. The water was very shallow in front of the
lighthouse. Looking closely, we could see fish jumping in the
shallows between the rocks.
Forty Mile Point Lighthouse park features the pilothouse from the
freighter Calcite. You can climb around it and peek in the windows
at the huge ship's wheel.
There is also a flat
bottomed skiff similar to
the ones that are built by
students at the Great
Lakes Boat Building
School.
We wandered up to the
lighthouse and admired
another bunch of lilacs
yet again. Just can't get
enough of these flowers!
Inside we found the kitchen was set up as it would have been when the lighthouse
keepers lived here and tended the light: simple, rustic living. Down in the basement
was a fun display of old washing machines.
We climbed up the circular steel
staircase to the cramped space
that houses the French-built
Fresnel lens, and looked out at
the peaceful view. A guide
came up after us and told us
the most amazing story of the
wreck of the freighter Fay in
October, 1905.
At the time, the Fay was a 34-
year-old and rather battered
wooden ship. She was towing a
wooden barge, the Rhodes, that night,
southbound along the coast. The
winds unexpectedly built to hurricane force and shifted
onshore, pushing the Fay towards land. As the
captain turned the ship towards safer, deeper water,
the tow line snapped taut, and the barge suddenly
ripped the back end off the ship and floated free. The
ship's captain desperately turned the remains of the
sinking ship back towards shore, and miraculously the
pilot house was swept up onto the
beach intact with all but two
officers safe inside (one man even
slept through the whole ordeal).
Despite all the drama that night,
including the drowning of the first
mate who was on deck when the
back end of the Fay was torn off,
the 40 Mile Point Lighthouse
keeper noted the shipwreck with
just a brief one-line entry in his
logbook.
The rest of the Fay landed on the beach a short distance from the lighthouse. 130 feet of its starboard side is still embedded in the
sand, the heavy wooden planks and steel spikes that held it together still plainly visible. We walked around it in wonder. 27
wooden ships and 50 lives were lost in that one storm. 104 years and many other vicious storms have passed since then.
The lake is lower now than in past years. Old photos show waves lapping over the hull as it sat
in shallow water. I don't know whether lapping waves or hot sun, wind and snow erode wooden
shipwreck remains faster, but I'm sure in another 100 years very little will be left of this hull on
the beach.
Continuing down the coast, we
stopped at Rogers City where we
found yet another lovely waterfront
city park. There are so many
wonderful public parks in Michigan
where you can enjoy the lakes.
Many miles further south we discovered East Tawas
where there was a fantastic RV park that hugged the
shoreline.
A string of RVs was backed up to the beach, and
there was a party atmosphere in the air.
The folks who got the prime spots along the beach
had set themselves up for a season's stay, building
elaborate stairways and decks off their RVs. Beach
umbrellas, bikes and happy visiting grandkids were
the theme of this RV park.
We continued south to Bay City, situated on Saginaw
Bay in the nook of Lake Huron that forms the base of
Michigan's thumb. During my stay in this state I
learned that when talking about Michigan geography
everyone whips out their left hand and points to the
spot they are referring to.
We arrived in Bay City on the day of
the hydroplane boat races. You could
hear the buzz of their engines long
before spotting them on the river.
The racecourse was a simple oval,
and the whole town turned out for the
event.
We got a great view from the bridge
overlooking the river at one end, and
got a good look at these crazy craft as they
periodically left the race to come into
the dock for a pit stop.
We walked among the trailers and pit
crews and watched one boat come get
launched back onto the racecourse
after some quickie repairs.
The boats were lined up along
the docks and sent off in
waves.
What fun to be right there on the dock
when this boat pulled over and the
driver crawled out of the cockpit.
Our last stop in Michigan was
Frankenmuth, a town settled by
German immigrants in 1845 and
redecorated to celebrate this German
heritage in the 1950's.
Touristy, but fun anyways, we got a kick out of walking
around.
A plaque informed us that the Bavarian Inn is one of
the ten largest restaurants in the US and served some 20 million
meals over the century from 1988 to 1998.
The huge restaurants on both sides of the street proudly
advertised their famous chicken dinners.
After some more family gatherings, we headed back to the airport
and jetted back to resume our normal lives in our trailer. We
hopped back in the Luvnest in Valencia, California and made a
beeline for San Diego, arriving just in time for their huge Mission
Bay July 4th bash. After a few days there we decided it was time
to start our summer travels for real. We crossed the scorching
California and Nevada deserts and made it to the cool, green mountains and glittering streams outside Ketchum, Idaho.