For a long time, I’ve wanted to see two things: the Northern Lights and the UP (Upper Peninsula) of Michigan. I think we can chock that second one up to a successful ad campaign for “Pure Michigan” by the state or its tourism board which touted the state’s lakeshores, islands, northern reaches and golf courses. One person was won over at least. For the former, I think the draw is probably obvious.
We arrived in northern Michigan from Sault Ste. Marie in Ontario. After a friendly, but more rigorous, interrogation about the produce in our cooler than we’d experienced at our three other border crossings this summer we were on our way. First stop: a brake repair shop.
About two hours into the day’s five hour drive an indicator came on telling us the brake pads needed replacement. Crap. We stopped into a shop on Canada’s highway 17 where the owner and I both agreed it was good to be upright and alive, but he couldn’t squeeze us into his schedule. We called a few places in Sault Ste. Marie who were booking into August. Double crap.
So, I turned my sights to Cheboygan because not only was it close to our future accommodations but it’s fun to say. We landed at Main Street Tire and Brake where Brian said, on the phone, that he could do it on Thursday, but we agreed I should swing in that day to confirm that they had the parts needed. We arrived about 30 minutes late, due in part to the border agent’s fascination with our vegetable inventory and needed to come back an hour later so we hit the Family Fare market down the road to load up on provisions.
Turns out that the brake pads have sensors and while the pads themselves still had about 40,000 miles left in them, per Brian, the sensor didn’t. Off we went with peace of mind and the tires checked. If you’re in Cheboygan and need a mechanic, Brian’s the man.
Pure Michigan Part One. Part of the “Pure Michigan” ad campaign touted the golf courses of the state, and in particular, those in the fingers of its mitten shape. So, of course, I had to play one to fulfill one of my pure Michigan dreams.
I chose a Rees Jones designed; UAW (United Auto Workers) owned course just down the road called Black Lake Golf Club. While my rental set was reminiscent of my first $150 used starter set (especially its driver), it was a beautiful course winding through the woods and wetland. I played with Herb, a truck driver from “down south” (meaning down in southern Michigan) who was up for the UAW meetings close by but had the afternoon off. He imparted upon me his vast knowledge of all of Michigan’s golf courses with which I would have needed to be a court stenographer or have a photographic memory to keep up. It was a wonderful afternoon.
Pure Michigan Part Two. Another feature of the ad campaign was Mackinac (Mack-in-Awe) Island, so to fully scratch this Michigan itch, we had to go.
I was advised to skip the line and book ferry tickets with the Mackinac Ferry Company in advance. Their website is confusing with three different kinds of boats (high speed, “classic” and “pirate ship”). I discerned that the pirate ship was for the children but could find no definition of “classic”. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t select a type, that I could find anyway, when purchasing. We just hoped for the best to avoid the pirate ship. I also paid $15 extra for “valet parking” assuming that if it was busy, this might be smart and quicker.
We arrived about 45 minutes early for the 11:30 ferry. There was no one at the valet stand. After waiting a few minutes, I went over to the ticket desk to try to find “will call” (the other buy-in-advance options required a printer to which we had no access). There was no “will call” line so I queued with everyone else. I got to the front and got my tickets but had to go back to the valet stand to get an envelope and then bring it back to the ticket office for deposit with the car key. I mentioned that there was no valet around, so the walkie-talkies came afire with activity.
A nice older gentleman provided the envelope, and we navigated an angry shuttle driver who was hollering about us moving our car from where it was supposed to be, next to the valet stand, to somewhere else. The nice gentleman again stepped in and offered us a place, out of the way of furious shuttle drivers, to which we could move. With envelope in hand, we returned to the end of the ticket line, which was at least shorter this time, left it with the agent and got in another line to board the ferry.
We missed the 11:30 by two people. Literally. The two in front of us got on, we didn’t. My heart sank and this whole exercise was starting to seem foolish. The island better be good as it was shaping up to be a real Disney World-during-school-vacation-week debacle.
Fortunately, 10 minutes later the fast ferry arrived and whisked us to the island arriving just before the one we’d missed. “Classic”, it turns out, means “slow”. Those boats take 45 minutes to an hour where the faster one takes half of that. That was when things started looking up. Despite all of the bureaucratic hurdles presented by the website, valet and ticketing processes which would have given my old Lean Six Sigma consultancy a plethora of opportunity, the ferry operation itself was very well run.
We grabbed a table at Verde Mexican restaurant right by the dock, fearing challenges elsewhere without a reservation. It was efficient, the food good enough and the service better.
We set off to explore the island on foot. There are no passenger vehicles allowed on the island. Bikes are in abundance, but not obnoxiously so, and horse drawn carriages shuttle people around. We navigated a mix of streets, stairs and trails, past the old fort, and gorgeous homes with fabulous gardens to Arch Rock, with a lot of other selfie-seekers then meandered along the high road, looping around to the Grand Hotel.
We had a look around the hotel and headed straight to the Cupola Bar at the top for a beverage and a view. The Grand was built in 1887. It is the largest seasonal summer-only hotel in the world. Mackinac island was developed as a cooler summer destination in the Victorian era for those traveling to Michigan by rail or by steam ship from Buffalo, Cleveland, Chicago or Detroit. In present day, Ron Howard, Vince Vaughn and Bob Seger have houses there and Mitt Romney used to spend summers there growing up. Mackinac Island is famous for its fudge and is home to America’s oldest grocery store, Doud’s on Main Street.
Despite the misfires of the ferry company, it was an enjoyable experience overall and not at all like an overcrowded Disney, especially off of bustling Main Street.
Not to be disappointed, the valet failed to bring around the car (as promised) when we texted while boarding our return vessel and, yet again, no one was to be found at the valet station until we hunted down the same gentleman from the morning. But, hey, at least they are consistent in achieving an F grade.
The Lights. We happened to be in northern Michigan when the Northern Lights were forecast to be visible, and fortunately, the day’s clouds had cleared just in time. To the naked eye, you could see only a brilliant yellow moon rise that looked more like one of the sun’s, but none of the flares I’d expected (maybe due to the light pollution from neighboring camps and fires). But thorough my iPhone’s camera, the brilliance of the lights was unveiled and a mere five hours later the sun returned to rise to the competitive challenge thrown down the night before.
Final Stop: Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. We rolled into Michigan’s U.P. across the Mackinaw City toll bridge to finish this Pure Michigan tour. We drove along the windswept dunes and watched whitecaps crash along the beaches of northern Lake Michigan. On our way, we detoured north down county and state highways through the U.P.’s remoteness to the shores of Lake Superior to check out the sandstone cliffs and dunes of Pictured Rocks seashore.
After a stop at the eastern end visitor’s center to get some tips and to stamp my National Park passbook we made our way to the Log Slide picnic area and made the short walk to see the dunes. I must admit, I’ve never seen a sand dune like this. It was almost a cliff with a long, steep descent to the beach and lakeshore below. I marveled at how the family camped out at the top was letting their children run around so close to the edge, but it’s not my place to judge (I guess).
We made our way west, took in the views of Lake Superior and pulled off the main road north to the Miner’s Castle overlook to view some of the cliffs and rocks.
It’s a pretty park, but I’m not sure it was worth the hour plus detour. It would be better to visit the park if it were on the way without a detour or to make the area a destination to backpack/hike through it or to view the dunes and rock cliffs from the water.
Our Airbnb was a cottage/camp right on Black Lake. It was reminiscent of our (separate) childhood summers on similar lakes with smooth, shimmering waters, campfires and s’mores, chasing fireflies at night. The camps set along the lake were clustered together so closely that you could hear your neighbors’ phone conversations, spats over who shot whom first with a squirt gun and every late-night belch at the campfire but isn’t that why we came? To experience life as a local in the pure heart of Michigan?
The Traveling Ridleys 
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