U.P. Journal; July 2008
July 7: Mary shopped and packed in preparation for the trip, and called ML about bird care. Keith and Mary took the African violets to Kim so they can be kept properly watered during our absence.
July 8: More frantic shopping and packing, and last-minute watering of house plants and garden. We left for Whitehall after lunch and arrived 3 hours later—made very good time! We registered at the Maple Tree Motel. Lynn wasn't there—she's taken a break because she was having nightmares about cleaning. Her sister-in-law was there instead. We took Graham (at his choice) to McDonald's and left him and his takeout at the motel with the TV. We drove out in search of a local restaurant listed in the motel guide book that sounded likely, but couldn't find it. Probably it had gone out of business, but the directory had never been changed. Finally, we just stopped at a restaurant next to the marina, hoping for the best. As it turned out, the food was excellent. Mary had an appetizer portion of jambalaya to start, followed by pork with cherry chutney. Keith had escargot, then walleye with rice and stirfry vegetables, with the house pinot grigio. We both had nice little salads with raspberry vinaigrette, and rolls with seasoned oil to dip. The restaurant is called Crosswinds, and is right at the foot of Sophia Street, one block from the Maple Tree Inn where we were staying. We sat on the deck, and watched the swans. A mother with two cygnets emerged from behind (inside) the dock, and the father faced off another male swan who kept spinning in circles—very entertaining! Mary worked on a painting of a chimpanzee with tulips in her Moleskine—Ian Russell's moleskine, actually.
We walked up the road to the site of the old tannery, which was being demolished when we visited last year. Now it is going to be condominiums and a marina. We climbed a rubble pile, took a few pictures, and returned to the motel area. There we discovered a garden with a switchback walkway, and two metal sculptures that looked like origami cranes. Then all three of us walked to Pekadyl's ice cream shop and sat to eat it in the back garden—K & G on the swing. Mary had raspberry sorbet.
July 9: Keith and Mary delivered Graham to Blue Lake at 8:30 AM! (Everyone was nervous about getting there on time.) We signed papers, said goodbye, and went off to play – Graham watching eagerly for the arrival of his friends as Mary and Keith drove drove off to their own entertainment.
Mary and Keith went to the Lighthouse and beach at Silver Lake and then walked on the Silver Lake Dunes! We were impressed by the very tall brick lighthouse—and climbed to the top of it and took lots of pictures. We also loved the large barren dunes. Although part of the dune area was open to ATVs, the area where we walked was free of them. The sand was harder than most beach dunes, so the walking was easier and we wandered around taking lots of pictures. It was so wonderfully open and spacious. After a while, though, Mary freaked out and wanted to leave because she was afraid she was getting sunburned and we had a tiny misadventure of getting caught in an area we couldn't get out of (fenced) and had to back-track a quarter mile to get out to the car.
We ate at Crosswinds again, Mary had the Walleye and Keith had perch, both were excellent. Mary drew a picture of the swans we'd seen the night before in pencil in her "backyard sketchbook." We went back to the garden with the switchbacks and Keith and Mary played with the metal origami swans, making a squeaky-gate noise that resembled whale song. Mary made a video clip of Keith playing to record the sound.
July 10: We left Whitehall around 10 AM (early for us!). In Manistee, we visited the SS City of Milwaukee, a railroad car ferry that has been made into a museum. We took the tour, starting below decks with a small group. Keith loved the engine room—two three-cylinder triple expansion engines of 1400 horsepower each, four Scotch boilers (which we didn't get to see) that had been converted from coal-fired to #6 fuel oil. We duly admired the condenser, the switchboard, and the turbine electrical generators. When we returned to the main deck, the rest of the group, who had started separately, finished their tour, and left Keith and Mary alone with our guide, who had once been a deckhand on the ship. We saw the after pilot house, crew's quarters, passenger staterooms, galley, main lounge, officer's quarters, and forward pilot house. It was an interesting tour, but delayed us more than we had anticipated. We made sandwiches, and ate them in the car before proceeding.
Both of us were rather pink (read sunburned!) from the dunes!
We stopped at a supermarket in Grayling, and bought three days' worth of food and ice for the cooler, and continued on to Hartwick Pines State Park. We couldn't get the campsite we preferred (#28) for both days, so we reserved #15 for the second day. After setting up and having dinner, we walked into the stump fields trail area—after dark. It had rained some on the way up and things were a little wet, but we got the camp set up OK. It was our maiden voyage in the new Sierra Designs Bedouin 4 tent that we purchased to replace the tent (Mary's old one purchased at LL Bean on a visit to Maine) whose zipper broke at the Pinery over Memorial Day. Went to bed very late!
July 11: We got up late because we'd gone to bed late. After breakfast, we walked the Bright and Glory Trail to Bright and Glory Lakes—loved the name of the trail. Found pyrola (shinleaf), and a fly agaric (Amanita muscaria). There was no one at the first lake when we arrived. It was a small kettle lake, and sort of Adirondacky, minus the mountains. The second lake had fisherpeople on the docks. They were casting right over the walkway. So we left. After lunch, we walked the Old Growth Trail among the old growth Pines and hemlocks. After dinner, Mary worked on the Red Barn painting in Ian Russell's Moleskine.
July 12, 2008, We departed from Hartwick Pines State Park and Campground at 9:30 AM, which may have been a record for us. We'd had to bundle everything up in the rain (which waited until we emerged from the tent to begin), and our gear was heaved into the car in considerable disarray. It's hard to find the patience to pack carefully when you're getting wet. We stopped for groceries in Mackinac City, refueled (300 miles on 13 gallons—pretty good for the old Blue Freighter), and crossed the Straits in clear weather. In St. Ignace, we took Highway 2 west, looking for a campground in which Mary had stayed in 2001. We found it, about 24 miles west of the bridge, and picked a campsite on a dune above Lake Michigan. There is no clear view of the water (except through the trees), but a stiff onshore wind helps to confuse the hordes of hungry mosquitoes. Kathy (the camp host) says she's never seen the mosquitoes so bad as they are this year. They were bad at Hartwick Pines, too.
We hung our dripping tent, fly, ground cloth, and jacket out to dry on a rope that we had found abandoned at Hartwick Pines, and made lunch. By that time, the tent and ground cloth were dry and we set up the tent and spread the fly in the only available patch of sunlight. After we'd eaten, we put the fly on but left it rolled up to allow the constant wind to blow through the tent and dry the damp sleeping bags, pillows and gear. Then we took a 45-minute walk along the shore of Lake Michigan where we saw tansy, sedum (?) (little star shaped yellow flowers on the beach), lots of white caps, and a blue crab claw. Mary had just been reminding Keith about the blue crab claw she found on a nearby beach on the day they met, so of course, we photographed it.
When we returned from our walk, we drove up to a Pasty joint for firewood and postcards and also got a pasty (which Mary ate—it was mostly potatoes). We returned to the campsite and made dinner. Mary started the journal. Then we ate most of the beef tenderloin (Mary's piece wasn't tender!) and drove back to the pasty place for homemade apple pie—we had to get it take out as they'd already put up their "closed" sign.
Keith worked on the journal while Mary continued to paint her barn picture in Ian Russell's Moleskine.
July 13, 2008, Sunday. Keith got up and ran the car to make up for the power drained by the CPAP overnight. Since it was Sunday morning, Keith made bacon and eggs for breakfast—and for himself, fried toast. For Mary, bran with Blueberries. Mary had a sponge bath, and battened the tent hatches. Kathy came by--she's the host lady—and she and we had a long talk while Mary washed the dishes and did some hand laundry.
Then we drove north on 123 to Trout Lake where we mailed all the postcards we'd been writing since we mailed the last batch. Then we drove up to a small part of Tahquamenon State Park that borders Lake Superior and had lunch. From the cooler in the trunk (Keith carried all the stuff to the table), we ate deli meat and bread and chips and beer for Keith and water for Mary and bran for Mary and watched the gulls on the shore of the Lake. The lake and sky were pewter grey and shades of dull blue and grey, very pretty. We continued on to Paradise and then to the Upper Falls of Tahquamenon Falls. We reminisced about the circumstances that led to our meeting six years ago at Tahquamenon. Mary first noticed Keith in the parking lot as she got out of the car, Keith first noticed Mary with a group of Japanese tourists. Both were stopping at the same overlooks to take pictures and noticed each other. Keith first spoke to Mary at the main viewing area, "Nice weather we're having, huh?" Mary first spoke to Keith at that point, saying, "Would you mind taking my picture?" And Keith said, "Would you return the favor?" It was raining that day six years ago. It rained today, too, only briefly. But all day it looked like it would rain, and rain some more. And all day as we walked around, we reminisced about our meeting. "Remember how you said you liked thistles?" "Remember how you showed me liverworts?" "Remember how Graham counted all the steps?" (There are a lot of steps going down into the gorge.) We hugged and kissed a lot remembering how we met, and sat and held hands at each of the spots where we did anything to memorable.
There was a couple from Bay City that we met and kept running into over and over at the upper falls.
We ate dinner at the Falls Restaurant. We had local Michigan Salmon. Mary had a piece of "Fruit of the Forest pie"—which was apple, rhubarb and berries—and very good. Keith was gakked for some reason, and to take away part of his dinner in a plastic box--most unusual. Mary bought postcards and we went down to the lower falls and walked there. We ran into the Bay City coupl at the restaurant and again at the Lower Falls. At the Lower Falls, Mary kept testing Keith about the flowers, ferns and trees we'd seen earlier. Keith did a great job remembering. We saw: pyrola (shinleaf), bracken ferns, cinnamon ferns, royal ferns, lady ferns, NY ferns, oak ferns, balsam, hemlock, white pine, mountain maple, sugar maple, ox-eye daisy, alder, orange hawkweed, thistles (unknown variety), lesser enchanter's nightshade, and many many other plants. We also saw and attempted to photograph a redstart. Saw downy woodpeckers.
On the way back to Trout Lake, Mary wrote three postcards and we put them in the mailbox at Trout Lake. Then it began to rain again. Mary worked on the Journal in the car while Keith was driving us back to camp.
It was cool and windy today, so we both wore long pants and long-sleeved shirts all day long, quite a contrast to the heat and humidity of the earlier part of the trip.
We stopped along Lake Michigan to view an astounding sunset below the black clouds over the lake—thin strips of rich dark saturated red with bumps. The road runs right along the lake so we watched it, too, as we drove. When we got back, we discovered that the blue corn chips we'd left out for the chipmunk were all soggy.
July 14, 2008, Monday. We are driving west on rte 2 at 1:51 PM. We've just left Manistique, where we stopped for a picnic lunch along the side of the lake. We got up this morning at the Lake Michigan campground. Everything was damp from the overnight rain. It was grey when we rose, but not raining. The soggy blue corn chips we left out yesterday were gone, so we put out some fresh cheerios. Our chipmunk came to feed on them and stuff his or her cheeks, so we took some pictures. We had breakfast (dry cereal and graham crackers, bran) and broke camp, performing the normal division of tasks with Mary packing up most of the things inside tent, Keith doing the air mattress, and working together to take down the tent. We did not see Kathy to say goodbye to her.
We headed out on rte 2 around 11 or little before. We stopped at a tiny IGA hoping to get a few things we needed. We got ice for the cooler and ham for Mary's lunch (she wanted turkey but there wasn't any), but were unable to buy bread, vegetables etc. We stopped to mail Ian Russell's Mole to Jessie Hirsh, and then stopped at a roadside park to have our lunch. Mary (and Keith) fed the gulls even though there was a sign that said not to—bad us. Keith had boxed leftovers from last night's meal--salmon, baked potato, and vegetables. It was cloudy and cool—long sleeves and pants—and a bit rainy (light mist, drizzle) all morning, but it has now (2:06 PM) cleared partly up and is partly sunny and warmer. Not hot. We're in our T-shirts.
We were getting a kick out of several signs along the highway that said, "Rustic cabbins." With two b's. The spellchecker automatically fixed it and Mary had to go back and make it say cabbins again. Keith is driving and Mary is catching up the journal.
2:18 PM We are stopped for gas in Rapid River. There is a logistical problem point here and we are trying to navigate—so far unsuccessfully. We have to find a road that is not labeled in any way on the map—DUH! Keith is filling the car while Mary studies the maps! Finally, in the book of topo maps, Mary finds that that road is 186. We still managed to miss the turn in spite of Mary telling Keith about the "big bend"—there was NO sign on the road at all! And since at the point, 2 becomes a divided road, we had to drive a few miles in the wrong direction. Keith said a lot of bad words. 2:27PM We are finally on the right road again. It's a narrow green tunnel road taking us away from the coastline. Mary will miss the views of the lake.
3:17 PM We are on 35 north toward Ishpeming. Keith has been driving and Mary just reviewed and revised the entire journal. This road is narrow and twisty and slow. A green tunnel. Not much to see. It's sort of Appalachia-style shanties and trailers, though we passed through Gwinn, which was a little fancier. It even had a boulevard! Newly created and in the process of being landscaped.
4:49 PM Our interminable journey continues. We stopped in Ishpeming at another (bigger) IGA for veggies, bread and beer and are now headed north on 41. Keith is struggling with slow moving campers and narrow windy roads and Mary is downloading pictures from the earlier part of the trip. We passed some "mountains" (rocky hills) that were impressive looking after the green sightless tunnels of forest. Bogs. Marshes. Mines (it's Iron Country). Lots of white pines and balsam. Along the highway, ox-eye daisy, common St. Johns wort, cat tails, bracken fern. Aspens and a few yellow and paper birches. Sugar maple. The area is dotted with lakes and ponds, a welcome relief from the earlier ubiquitous green tunnel. OK, back to downloading pix. 2 cameras done, two to go.
5:30 PM Mary has now downloaded all the pictures from all four cameras and cleaned all the cards (except Keith's—he cleaned his own). So the cameras are all ready to go again. That last card Mary downloaded, off Thyraia (pronounced thur-AY-uh), the 30D, had 878 pictures on it! They went all the way back to the NY trip and included Rachel's birthday, a trip to Pier Park and all of the UP trip so far! It's an 8 gig card!
Meanwhile, we are passing Sturgeon Falls. Keith drove us through L'Anse and Baraga and we are now on 38 W headed for Ontonagan. And from Ontonagan to the Porcupine Wilderness State Park, hopefully. AK! (I'm getting a little tired of riding). We are passing some farms with wheat and oats. Alfalfa. Barns, churches, graveyards. A few houses. Pike Lake. Brewster's Oasis store. Earlier, we passed huge lumber and logging yards. Several of them. And now, back into the green tunnel. Along the roadside: sugar maple, aspen, a few white birches (paper birch?), white pine, a few hemlocks and balsams, and not much else. The woods here has changed to mostly hardwoods, dunno if that will last. Very few visible flowers of any description. OH! A field of yellow poppies! Prolly planted. And some bottles of pop along the roadside, tossed out of a car, prolly, first trash I've seen in a long time.
We followed Route 107 into the park, to the first campground we saw, and asked about available campsites. Since this is our first visit, we didn't know the best place to stay, or even if there would be any open campsites. The ranger recommended a "rustic" spot at the west end of the park as the most suitable for tent camping and the kind of atmosphere we were looking for. So, we got back into the car, and drove to the end of the South Boundary Road--27 miles!--to the Presque Isle campground. After we registered for two days, got the tent set up, and made dinner (pork chops and curried vegetables), it was dark. We walked down the stairway to the "beach" on Lake Superior where we saw lightning on the horizon and fireflies on the beach. We walked until we could walk no more because we ran into the Presque Isle River. We know there were falls and a gorge up there and it was pitch black dark in the woods and we had no flashlights with us, so we did not venture up the gorge but headed back to camp and went to bed – late—after midnight. The very impressive lightning we sat and watched on the beach arrived at the campground just after we went to bed along with wind and rain. It kept us awake. Even after it passed, we slept poorly.
July 15, 2008, Tuesday. We got up late because we went to bed late last night, ate dry cereal and had bran and coffee and set out for The Presque Isle River and the three waterfalls running up from the river. The three falls were named Manibezho, Manido, and Nawadaha, but there were also many rapids and cascades. The falls all have Native American names. Manibezdo, the largest, is the local name for the Great Spirit, or God.
We went to the middle falls first, because that was where the trail from the picnic area delivered us. We climbed over the fence and wandered around on the rocks taking pictures of the falls, the potholes, and each other. Then we walked along the boardwalk and down stairs and along a tiny trail that hugged a long steep embankment, halfway up the cliffs above the Presque Isle River. Because of the rain last night, some parts of the one foot-width wide trail were muddy and slippery and scary. It was not the real trail.
We passed a large group of enthusiastic hikers all with walking sticks and day packs who greeted us cheerily and encouraged us to take the trail on the far side of the river which we'd been considering. After exchanging words with them, we continued on to the upper falls where we climbed down to the rocks after asking the couple we'd seen in the parking lot and learning that the bridge was only about a quarter mile upstream. We sat and relaxed and talked and took pictures and kissed and held hands and soaked in the lovely peaceful scenery and sound of falling water. AH!
Then we continued on to the bridge, and river, enjoying the river and the plants. We crossed the bridge and headed down the other side, stopping to take pictures in several places, and to climbed down to the rocks. Back at the middle falls, but on the opposite side of the river, we climbed down, took off our shoes and socks, pushed up our jeans, and sat with our feet in the bubbling water below the falls for a long time, watching the people on the other side frolicking, wading, swimming, exploring, taking pictures.
Mary was pleased and excited because the wound on her foot which had been slowly healing toward the center had finally scabbed over enough that she could put her foot in the water. Before that, it had been open and raw. It still hurts inside the foot, and the wound isn't entirely healed, but it is finally scabbed over! YAY!
Then we continued on down to the lower falls, walked out to the island, explored the island and lower falls, crossed the suspension bridge, and headed back up the river to the car via many steps. By this time it was after 5 and we had a very late lunch. We were starved. We discovered that we have a very small chipmunk and we fed it corn chips and bran and took a few crappy pictures.
Then we drove seventeen miles south to Wakefield for gas, ice and supplies, got ground round, porterhouse steaks, mushrooms, paper towels and other stuff we needed—and peanuts for the chipmunk. Mary was writing in the journal and discovered that she had a internet signal so she fired off an email—she was losing signal and lost one of the messages and another was sent incomplete. Then the connection was gone entirely, as if it had never been there.
When we returned to camp, Keith split wood for the fire for dinner while Mary looked up the names of the three falls we had walked to, and struggled with a Geraldine poem (So far quite unsuccessfully.) The chipmunk had not eaten the waffles we left for it. But it had carried away all the bran and blue corn chips and was nowhere in sight when we put out the peanuts. They seem to go to bed early and get up early.
Things we like about this site: there are mosquitoes for sure, but there are far fewer of them than there were at any of the other campgrounds we've stayed at on this trip. It is very quiet and peaceful here. There are no airplanes flying over, or trucks on a highway, or motorcycles or dune buggies or any other motorized sounds except the cars coming in and out, and since it is a small area, there aren't that many of those. So far, people are quiet at night and quiet in the morning, and quiet most of the rest of the time as well, other than wood chopping and splitting and quiet conversation—no loud radios or stereos or boom boxes etc. No motorized boats on the lake either (though the thunder last night was VERY loud!) [A man just came and borrowed our power inverter to inflate his air mattress. He had asked to borrow our generator, but we told him that this area is posted "no generators".] The woods around the campsite are open and inviting; this is an old growth area. The scenery is wonderful along the river.
Things we do not like include: the sites are fairly close together and not very private, we have neighbors on both sides and they are so close we can see and hear everything they do. Also, it is a remote area, 26 miles via South Boundary Road from route 107, and 17 miles from Wakefield. This is part of what gives it its charm but it makes supply runs tedious (and expensive). All things considered, our opinion is definitely positive, so we registered for two more nights.
July 16, 2008, Wednesday. Keith made bacon and eggs for breakfast and we had cherry juice to go with it. Mary painted a picture of the open old-growth forest behind the campsite in her practice mole while Keith was having coffee and doing chores around the campsite. Then we made sandwiches and headed out for Mirror Lake. We drove along the South Boundary Road about 13 miles to the South Mirror Lake Trailhead. We geared up with the Pooh bag full of sandwiches, water bottles, etc and all our camera gear and headed out. We were immediately assailed by bugs: mosquitoes, deer flies, horse flies, stable flies and no-see-ums. The mosquitoes were the most numerous, pestiferous and persistent, but the others got their licks and bites in, too. Mary was wearing shorts and a tank top with a thin short covering, and Keen sandals. Keith was wearing long pants and high boots. The bugs were driving us frantic and got worse and worse. We hiked to the Summit Peak overlook (all uphill, difficult, slow, and exhausting, and continually flailing at the bugs). There was a faint breeze at the top of the tower which gave us some relief as we ate our sandwiches. We headed out again for Mirror Lake, and the bugs just got thicker. We trekked as fast as we could, which on the hills wasn't very fast. Mary was frantic by the time we got there. We hiked a tenth of a mile or so along Mirror Lake looking for a resting spot and view. Mary sat and ate her bran while Keith paced up and down to minimize the mosquito bites. Then we headed back down Little Carp River Trail. The trail guide said this was "one of the most scenic trails in the park", but it was a green tunnel for the most part, and filled with zillions of starving mosquitoes and other biting insects. There were two overlooks of a tiny stream, but we didn't stop, just glanced as we hastened past, windmilling constantly. It was 1.5 miles to Little Beaver Creek Trail, which turned out to be somewhat more interesting because there were two marsh crossings on narrow boardwalks and at those points, the mosquitoes were a little diminished, though not absent. And they were somewhat scenic, reminiscent of South Meadow. Then we had another pretty overview of the same beaver meadow from a higher vantage.
Then the rest of the mile back to the car—phew. It was 2.5 miles each way, but they were LONG miles, 5 mile round trip, and we did it in 2.5 hours. Which for Mary was fast, but for Keith, was slow. Keith was horribly bit up. Mary was exhausted because she kept up a pace, which, while slow, was fast for her weight and fibro and injured foot. The foot was throbbing with pain and she lay in the tent moaning for a while, while Keith split firewood for dinner. Mary gave the trek a desirability score of minus 2.5. She'd have scored it even lower if it weren't for the few vistas and pretty crossings.
Dinner was hamburgers and stirfy. It tasted VERY good, Mary gave it an 8.7 score. But when our own food was gone, dinner wasn't over yet. Our neighbors had caught lots of big lake trout, and asked Keith to take pictures while they posed with the catch, and then gave us a nice piece to share—it was EXCELLENT! Yum yum! So good dinner all the way around, the high point of the day.
July 17, 2008, Thursday. It rained hard off and on all night. Lots of lightning and loud thunder. Once again, the new tent did not leak and stayed dry inside. Everything outside was soaked. Mary discovered that her back had blistered from the sunburn sustained on the dunes. We had dry cereal, bran and coffee for breakfast and gave the chipmunks some peanuts, battened the hatches and set out for Lake of the Clouds. It's a thirty five mile drive around from Presque Isle to Lake of the Clouds, though they'd be much closer by air. On the way, we stopped at the "Outpost" and got ice and postcards.
When we got to the Lake of the Clouds parking area, it was noon and we decided to eat lunch before we headed out on the trail. Mary was out of turkey so Keith shared his salami and we finished off all the bread and salami in one and a quarter sandwiches each. Mary had bran and Keith beer and we packed up and headed out. It was only a short distance up to the first overlook. There were a number of people there enjoying the spectacular view. We joined them, chatted some, took pictures, and then went down to another nearby overlook. After a few more pictures and a little more chatting, we started along the escarpment trail that hugs the edge of the cliffs above Lake of the Clouds. Unlike yesterday, there were very few biting insects. We were very pleased. We loved the views and, and the fact that very few other people were walking the trail. We did run into a couple we'd seen at Tahquamenon, They were from Southern Indiana, and sounded asif they were from Kentucky. They both had braids; she two and he one. They were friendly and we spoke to them several times along the trail. We started out ahead of them, but stood aside to let them pass so we could take our time and not feel rushed. Then we came up on them occasionally at various overlooks as they were eating their lunch or viewing the lake. But mostly, we were alone and had the whole spectacular scene with the lake and cliffs and clouds and winding river all to ourselves. We were in 7th heaven. It was all too gorgeous and wonderful—so wild—the first time the Porcupine Wilderness really felt like a wilderness! It also looked and felt a little like parts of the Colorado trail with the high cliffs, the lake, the distant mountains and the narrow winding trail. Needless to say, we took LOTS of pictures. At one point, we saw a bald eagle from above as he flew across the lake. We also saw lots of wildflowers: bluebells, wild basil, self heal, daisies, knapweed, and lots more, and many patches of blueberries and June berries, which we grazed on as we walked along. Also saw pinesap, we'd seen other days, too, but neglected to mention. (Yesterday we saw Depford pink). Today in the middle of the mountains quite far from any habitation, up along the trail, we saw some kind of what looked like domestic pink—very brightly colored.
The trail offered a series of changing vistas of the lake and cliffs. Around every turn in the trail was a new fantastic view. The whole experience would have rated a ten, or perfect score, EXCEPT for the thunder, distant at first, and very slowly approaching, rumbling, coming closer. We were carrying a lot of camera gear and were unprepared for a deluge! Mary was getting nervous about it, so we started spending less and less time at each overlook. We cut down at the halfway point of the trail, which we'd been considering doing anyway, but now we were sure we wanted to. It was the only opportunity to get down off the escarpment for another 2 miles. Those two miles would have been gloriously beautiful on a nice day, but . . .
So we did go down, and Mary stayed with the gear while Keith hiked 2.2 miles back to the car in 34 minutes—all uphill, the last half mile quite steep (1 in 8 grade, with short pitches of 1 in 6), passing the Indiana couple on the way up (and again on the way down with the car). Although breathing hard by the end, Keith was feeling rather pleased with himself for not slackening his pace at all. Meanwhile, Mary, sitting in a ditch with the gear, was surrounded by hundreds of mosquitoes. She rolled a section of log up out of the ditch to the roadside and alternated sitting and dashing back and forth to try to escape the bugs. She drew a picture of a large umbelliferae that she guesses was cow parsnip in her pocket journal to look up later. She was very glad to see Keith!!! Meanwhile, the cloud of Lake of the Clouds totally descended on us in the form of fog and mist.
We then stopped at the visitor center for the first time—and the minute we got inside it started pouring—POURING—and thundering and lightninging—we were extremely glad to have made if off the escarpment and into shelter before that happened!!!
We viewed exhibits on bears, porcupines, fishers, wolves and other animals with stuffed specimens and interactive portions and also exhibits of area history with nice old photos. Mary stopped viewing to search for ticks because she kept imagining that something was walking on her, and when she returned to viewing the interpretive specimens, a very enthusiastic naturalist lady encouraged us to go see a "movie" which was "going to start in 5 minutes." So we went in and sat down and Mary scratched Keith's back because of all the bug bites there that he couldn't reach—he had a bad rash from so many bug bites, 10 minutes later, the show started—it was a slideshow, but one with fade in, fade out and other special effects. It was quite nicely done and fairly interesting about the human and natural history of the Porcupine Mountains and the wolves and falcons and eagles etc. We also watched another movie about the wolves and their capture-release study etc. We visited the gift shop but bought nothing—Mary interrupted her viewing of the gift shop to search again for a tick, but then returned and got a honey stick. It cost 35 cents but was very small—hardly a taste. We didn't get any more postcards since we'd just got some.
The interpretive center closed at 6 PM and we had to leave while it was still raining. At least the rain had let up some. We drove back to camp in the rain and fog, but it thinned out as we got farther west, and had nearly cleared by the time we reached camp.
Keith built a nice fire with wet wood, using splinters and Coleman fuel (he'd neglected to pack charcoal starter), and cooked us some porterhouse steaks. Mary made a stirfry with 3 slices of bacon in it for a change of pace—lots of cholesterol in that meal, but it was good. Our neighbors gave us some of their wild rice to go with the meal--very tasty. A satisfying meal in spite of the rain. The rain dwindled away for a while, most of the rest of the evening, but everything was very wet. Keith read aloud from Moby Dick, chapters 100 and 101.
Then, as it was getting dark (around 9:38), we left and walked down to the "Island" (which at this time of the year is connected to the mainland by a narrow isthmus), down all those stairs to the island, down the island to Lake Superior, over to the Presque Isle River to examine a shelter made of sticks and rocks (to dark to take pictures), and across the isthmus to the far side and back—and up all those stairs again. Ugh! Mary's fibro was acting up at that point and very painful so it was a bit of an ordeal going up the stairs. Also—feet very painful! Her injured foot has not recovered yet. It's significantly improved but not fully healed.
Finally, we went to bed. The rain started up again, and even though we were very tired, we could not sleep and were itchy and restless. Finally, Mary picked a tick off her leg—probably—hopefully—the one that had been bothering her all day. But a restless fear of more ticks and a general discomfort/insomnia kept both of us awake most of the night. The bedding and pillows were damp from all the rain, though the tent had remained "dry" inside and did not leak.
Friday, July 18, 2008. Mary took her synthroid at 8 AM but we didn't get moving until 9 because we were both tired. Keith made Mary bacon and eggs but ate bacon and graham crackers himself. It rained almost all night and everything outside was wet. We slowly packed up, Mary packing inside the tent and Keith packing outside until it was time to do the air mattress. We took the tent down together and Mary spread the tent, fly and ground cloth on several picnic tables to dry while Keith rearranged items in the car to make packing possible. The sun came out! Finally, we stuffed the still quite damp tent into its duffle (this tent has a duffle instead of a stuff sack) and departed for points unknown—we hadn't decided yet what our course of action was for the way back.
We stopped at an IGA in Ontonogan and bought rye bread with caraway seeds (which Keith doesn't like but was willing to put up with because all the other breads had soy or milk in them), beer (for Keith), turkey (for Mary), hard salami (for Keith), pork chops (for supper) [by now we'd decided at least to CAMP and not stay in a motel), broccoli, zucchini, mushrooms (guess what we're having for supper . . . ?) etc. And a little whisk broom and dustpan set for cleaning the tent (for $1.25 at the Family Dollar next to the IGA). We mailed the post cards from Porcupine Mts and headed out again.
Then we stopped for lunch at Twin Lakes State park picnic area—and had—guess what—turkey and salami on rye—beer for Keith and bran for Mary. We could see the Lake from out picnic table; it was very pleasant. We have decided to attempt to find an open campground near Pictured Rocks National Seashore—a possible problem since we have no reservations and it's Friday. There are a number of campgrounds in the area so hopefully we'll get something—so far, we've been lucky.
So now we're all caught up again. Keith had been driving and Mary writing in the journal ever since we left camp. Keith will add his 12 cents worth (inflation) later. By the time you see this, Keith prolly will have done his part, too.
We've been camping in "rustic" campgrounds that do not provide showers and have not been swimming, so we are really grubby. The rain made it muddy and we are covered with blood spots and smashed bugs. We plan to stay at a motel tomorrow night so we can shower and get freshened up before Graham's concert on Sunday at 1:00. But we do not have reservations at a motel for Saturday night, so we're hoping we can find a place to stay. We haven't been able to get cell phone signal in order to see if we got a room at the Maple Tree and she may offer it to someone else if we don't return a possible call from her.
Oh-oh—we've just discovered that we are in Houghton, up on the Keewenaw Penninsula. We were already on the wrong road when we stopped for lunch. If we were more attentive, we should have recognized that Twin Lakes State Park was not the Courtney Lake State Park we were looking for—but Mary just thought it was another park she hadn't noticed. Nope! So now we've driven WAY out of our way. We drove 40 miles up to Houghton and will have to drive 28 miles back to Baraga, and it would have been 31 miles had we gone the right way, so we drove 37 miles out of the way. L WAHN! We were hoping to get there early, get a campsite, set up camp, and go see the Pictured Rocks. Since this is not a highway, we're losing quite a bit of time. Lots of villages, cities, campers, boats and other slow traffic. BAH!
Now, while Keith drives us back to the correct route, Mary is going to attempt to gather everything needed to download some of our pictures from "The Porkies." She needs: the external hard drive because there's no room on Tabitha, the external card reader, the cameras and their cards, Keith's full card in the card case, and hopefully the portable easel to get the hot computer up off her lap! Since we're in a area fast road, collecting everything could be an issue.
This road is pretty because it keeps offering views of Superior. The Keewenaw Bay. Pretty. The sky is blue with small puff white clouds and it is a bit hazy from all the rain and the lake stretches out with little bays and peninsulas, trees. The water is blue and green and ruffled by a breeze. Along the road: large white pines, maples. Balsam spires, Ahead of us, motorcycles. Four or five. Here, we drive through a red pine planation, Tall straight red pines on both sides of the road. Summer sun, the smell of grass and trees and hot skin. Summer has a smell all its own. We just passed the intersection with rte 38 and the sign for Ontonogan, so we are back on track. Keith is exasperated because everyone is driving so slowly. Mary it HOT and frustrated because she can't locate everything she needs to download pictures.
I never did download the pictures. L Checking the county map book showed several state and private campgrounds near Munising, so we decided we'd look at the first promising-sounding one, and just drive on to the next if that one was filled. The first was in Christmas (guess what kinds of billboards and signs this town has!), the Bay Furnace State Park. All the campsites in the first section (the ones near the water) were filled, and we were beginning to get discouraged, but the other part (where the RVs were parked) had some vacancies, so we chose one and registered. Then we drove directly into Munising, where the scenic boat tours of the Pictured Rocks are located, and we got there at 6:19 but luckily, the last boat tour was leaving at 6:30. We dashed around got tickets and cameras and jumped on the boat. We brought long-sleeved shirts, considered taking jackets, and decided against them. We got one of the few remaining seats on the top deck, next to two other people on the left side away from the cliffs. Then we sat and sat and sat. The boat was late leaving, and when we pulled out into the cold fog, everyone immediately tossed on clothes and blankets. We'd only gone a short ways when we turned back. 12 more people had been "held up in traffic" and we went back and got them—another 15-minute delay. Finally, we headed back into the cold fog and wind. The captain announced if we had to turn back because of the fog, we'd get a full refund, and on we went, seeing very little but white surrounding the boat. Then, coming from the fog, a light house, of old wood shingled style—we attempted to photograph it in the fog. The captain told us stories of various things we could see if it wasn't foggy. The fog was really thick!
Another cruise boat passed us, appearing from the fog and passing and disappearing again. Shortly after that, the captain announced that the other captain had informed him that there was sunshine ahead for part of the trip. Meanwhile, 2/3 of the people sitting on the top deck retreated to the inside. We moved up to the second roaw of seats on the left and had them to ourselves. We continued on through the fog and then suddenly broke into the sunshine. The difference was incredible, bright, colorful and warm instead of cold, dank, dark and veiled. We immediately began shooting lots of pictures of the rock formations and colorful cliffs. We took way too many pictures, because around every bend was a new vista.
At one point, we pulled into a very narrow bay called Chapel Cove. That was really exciting and a little scary! We went way in, so that the boat was totally surrounded by the cliffs towering up on either side. We saw the Indian Face Rock, the Miner's Castle (early, still in fog), and several other "famous" formations rising sometimes 200 feet above the water. We also saw a white pine growing on a rock formation. Part of the formation that had connected it to the nearby cliff had crumbled away, but the roots of the tree bridged the gap to the cliff.
Then we hit fog again. We rode up through the fog to Spray Falls, which we could barely see in the fog. We could see it and I was glad of that, but no way photograph it. It was pretty and eerie in the dense fog. At that point, the boat turned back and we rode back again, this time without the humorous narration by the captain, but when we broke out of the fog again, we did ride even closer to some of the cliffs and formations and this time, we were on the closer side of the boat. Then one of the sailors fed the gulls and they all came streaming from their nesting ground screaming and wheeling around and there were antics to watch and pictures to attempt. More lovely cliffs and back into the cold fog.
Occasionally, through the fog, we could see the sun headed down. We got colder and colder and colder. Mary kept suggesting that we go downstairs and get some potato chips and get warm. We had had no dinner and were freezing, but Keith sat stolid and we didn't move 'til we disembarked. It was late twilight. Pretty dark and cold and we were freezing.
We went back to camp and had no firewood so we used the gasoline stove to make a pork stir fry for a late supper. We still needed to walk, so after we cleaned up and set up camp, sleeping bags, etc, we walked down to Bay Furnace, an old and partly ruined iron blast furnace which has been partly restored. It was very cool in the moonlight—a nearly (or entirely?) full moon, but we had no tripod. We walked along the beach until it became dangerously cobbly for walking in the dark and then went back and went to bed. At one point, we stopped and sat on a damp log on the beach and Mary attempted to write a poem for the Geraldine cycle in her little pocket notebook in the dark without using any light. We went to bed at ONE AM, and were disturbed in the middle of the night by the dogs (three of them) howling outside the trailer at the neighboring campsite, and by humans shouting, cursing, and slamming doors in reply. L
The Smell of Sun
A swell of water rises, curls and falls onto the sand,
tinkling like tiny bells, opening an "ah" in Geraldine's head
an internal ear horn that listens for a sound like bits of ice
dropping into a fragile glass. She watches as another follows,
as soft and sweet as the first, and then a third. The waves
angle against the shore in the shining darkness so that the quiet
singing of their touch passes from along the sand from right
to left. Ricky's hand warms hers in the cooling night,
and she squeezes it, laughing aloud at the quick squeeze back.
The full moon Al and Ellie teased about ("perfect
for your honeymoon") casts a single shadow on the sand,
echoes Geraldine's body leaning into Ricky's. Fireflies
blink on and off along the sand, in the bushes, and out
over the water, mirroring the spread of stars. Wisps
of mist, lit by moonlight, drift over the lake, thicken and gather
in the bays and between the hills. Down the beach, a single boat
stands out in silhouette against the moon path.
Geraldine wiggles her toes in the sand and snuggles closer
to Ricky and says "oh" and "oh," again. She breathes
in the smell of sun from his skin, the clean, sweet smell
of his body. His arm, circling her shoulders, draws her
yet nearer, then tugs her to her feet. They walk barefoot
down the beach to Aunt Luisa and Uncle Jake's Camp,
to the bed Al and Ellie have turned down for them,
to the sheets that smell of cedar and lavender,
like Aunt Luisa, like love. After they drop their clothing
to the floor, after they pull the sheet cool to their chins,
before they turn toward each other, they watch a star fall,
blue and flickering over the water, steaming
into the ripples like misted flame.
Written 7-18-08 at Bay Furnace Campground on the shore of Lake Michigan near midnight. (much from our evening experience).
Saturday, July 19, 2008: We got up at 7:49, prepared breakfast, broke camp, and went back to the blast furnace to see it in daylight, take some pix, read the signs and explore. Then we went to the metal riveted lighthouse we'd seen in Munising and took pix of that and since then, we've been on the road with Keith driving and Mary catching up the journal. But now we are stopped in a construction delay. We have seen a lot of construction up here, and narrowed roads, lane changes etc, but this is the first time we actually had to stop, I think. I remember a lot of this as a kid while traveling. The road here is all crushed stone and stink.
The Bay Furnace campground is in Christmas, Michigan (and of course, there are Santas and Holiday shops etc.) Someone made a joke about having Christmas in July, which I guess that's what we did by staying there. The couple sitting just ahead of us on the tour boat yesterday were Harley people, and had ridden there on their bikes. It was the woman who made that joke.
We are still driving very slowly along the crushed stone road—at least we're moving now. Ah, the end of the stench!
Our plan is to drive "downstate" from the U.P. to the L.P. and stay near Whitehall somewhere. We have not been able to get signal on the cell phones to determine if there's an opening at the Maple Tree Motel—we were first on the waiting list—they may give away the room to someone else if there is one and we don't return a call. But we have to either get a motel and shower etc or camp again and show up grubby! Mary is a little nervous not knowing where we'll sleep tonight.
We stopped for lunch at Little Hog Island Campground and sat at a picnic table in a campsite by the lake eating our sandwiches. It was a quick lunch and we headed out again.
We crossed the Mackinac Bridge and are on the Lower Peninsula now, headed south on I-75. It feels really good to be able to go at a faster rate of speed than we were ever able to travel on the U.P., where all the campers and boat trailers and old people dawdled along and you couldn't get by them. We got gas at the Petoskey / Rogers City exit and hopped back on. Mary got the extension cord from the CPAP (much to Keith's disgust--he had to unpack and repack a bunch of stuff) so she could use the computer and charge camera batteries both at once. The once clear sky has all but entirely clouded up, but the sun is still shining on Mary who also got the wooden table easel from the back seat to raise the hot computer up off her lap.
We are streaking south at 80 mph, after only being able to drive 40-55 much of the time on the U.P. Mary looked at herself in the mirror and saw a woman who looked very tanned and somewhat pink and not like the woman who left Detroit over a week ago for the U.P.
It began to rain before we turned onto 127 S south of Grayling and it rained harder and harder and harder. The visibility is terrible and Mary is frightened. Mary hates driving or being driven when the visibility is bad. A group of motorcyclists are pulled up under a bridge. It has rained almost every day of our entire vacation, but mostly, we have been lucky not be out in it—it has rained at night or while we were in a building or in the car and if we were out in it, it was relatively light and brief. The rain stopped and we breathed a sigh of relief, and then it started again. Rained hard but briefly, stopped again. Now it is sprinkling. We're passing the Marion 176 exit off 127. Earlier, we passed the Mio exit and I thought of Sara.
Time point: 5:00 PM: We're still driving, on 10 West toward Ludington. We're back on a two-lane, much to Keith's disgust. (He's "exgusted" with the slow moving idiots). We just drove by a cell-phone tower and had a full complement of signal bars but apparently no message from The Maple Tree Inn. So we will have to apparently find alternate lodging. We've just entered Baldwin (which is on rte 10 east of Ludington.) Here in Baldwin, we have to go North (out of our way) to continue east. On the way North, we see a pretty bad accident. Eek, scary!!!! L Badly crumpled cars, police, ambulances, someone (a woman) in the front of the rear one looking very bad. (or dead?) Makes Mary scared. And now it is raining again. Someone could run into us and it might not be our fault or being human, we could make an error in judgment!
Mary has been downloading pix while Keith drives and has downloaded all three of her cameras into Bela, one of Tabitha's external hard drives. (Pasada stayed home this time.)(Pasada went with us to Slovenia—she is smaller and easier to pack and carry and doesn't have two USB cables.) And cleaned the cards to receive new pix.
We decided that since we hadn't heard from the Maple Tree and since Saturday night is a hard night to get rooms, we'd better start looking early. We got off the highway (rte 31) at Hart and stopped at a Comfort Inn—first we called Maple Tree—to be sure. The Comfort Inn had no rooms, it was huge but all booked up. They sent us to the Hart Motel. He had lots of rooms. It was a very strange place. Lots of lovely flowers! An enthusiastic Inn-keeper. He showed us 4 or 5 rooms, each different, some with Jacuzzis etc until we mentioned we'd prefer a room with a real stove, and presto, we got the ♥ (Hart) version of the Garage Mahal. It was a suite with a real stove. And kitchen, sink, microwave, bread-maker etc. A sort of strange place that seemed to be furnished entirely with garage sale items, though Mary really liked a couple of the water colors (boats and flowers) and some of the old (antiquey) ad artwork. We took a few pix of the outside (because it looked a little "continental" with the flowers and little alleyways) but none of the inside. There were smelly "pewfrum" cookers plugged into the wall making a horrid stink, and Mary unplugged them and put them into ziplock bags.
Then we walked across the street to the IGA to shop for dinner. We got large shrimps (after much dithering and looking for fresh fish etc) and Mary went back to the Garage Mahal II to start making shrimp stirfry while Keith went on a beer expedition. We used up the last of the mushrooms, zucchini, and some of the broccoli and cabbage from our camping food.
Then we went out looking for a place to walk. Mary had seen a lake on the map, and we went looking for it, and on the way, found a "Historical Area" with some interesting buildings. There was a one-room schoolhouse being restored, a lovely old yellow brick church, an abandoned refrigerated warehouse, and other cool buildings. It was getting dark, but we took pictures anyway, and wandered around until Mary had had too many mosquito bites, and was getting impatient to have her walk.
So we drove on and found a park by the lake. By then it was deep twilight. We walked on a trail around the lake to a highway bridge, then back through the campground to the car—taking a few pictures but not nearly as many as we'd have liked because it had gotten almost completely dark. The trail was steep in places, muddy in places, wet in places, smelly in places, but also quite pretty in places.
We returned to Garage Mahal II. We called it that, because the suite had been built in what had clearly been a garage, and still had a garage door on the outside. We had stayed at Wendy Carlisle's camp in what she'd named "The Garage Mahal", so called because it was a renovated garage made "fancy." So our suite became Garage Mahal II.
We took a shower together, our first shower in over a week, and it felt really good. Then Keith gave Mary a foot rub—her feet were VERY PAINFUL, and we went to bed. Mary lay awake. Everything hurt—badly! She got up and took ibuprofen, but it didn't help. Her feet, knees, hips, shoulders, elbow all throbbed with pain. She suspected the smelly cookers (allergy to cheap perfume). Even though she'd bagged them, everything was permeated with the smell. She got essentially no sleep (very very little)! She was freezing cold with wet hair that wouldn't dry. (One of the reasons Mary normally prefers to shower in the morning.)
July 20, 2008, Sunday: We ate dry cereal and graham crackers in the room and Mary took another shower. Keith repacked the car to make room for Graham. We drove south to Blue Lake, signed Graham out, loaded his gear in the car, sent him back to hang out with his friends until the concert, took a half-hour walk down an opening through the woods where we found earth stars (star puffballs) that we photographed. Ate lunch in hot car—sandwiches with turkey for Mary and salami for Keith.
We walked to the concert, a fifteen-minute walk. Note to selves: drive over next year? We had to sit separately because the concert hall was so full. Mary sat almost directly behind Graham, who was seated with the SATB choir in the first couple of rows. Keith sat a few rows back. The concert was excellent. Mary cried in a few numbers because the music was so moving.
After the concert, we took Graham to McDonald's—he got 30 pieces of McNuggets and 2 fries and an extra large coke. He ate them all except 1 that Mary ate. Mary didn't like it very well! We left Graham at the motel. We had been going to drive down to Duck Lake, but we were both too tired. We walked over to get tickets at the Howlett theater, and discovered that there was only a matinee on Sunday, and we had missed it. So Keith read aloud two chapters of Moby Dick, and we hung out in the motel's "great room" reading magazines and attempting to catch up the journal until the staff came in to clean. We had chosen the lounge so that Graham could watch TV without disturbing us. But the people who came in to clean turned the TV on in the lounge, so we made a hasty exit.
We walked down to Crosswinds for dinner. We sat again on the deck next to the water, as in the first two visits. We had calamari and crab cakes. Keith had whitefish, Mary fried perch. It was our third visit to Crosswinds. Mary did not like her perch—it was very greasy (oily). (ICK!) She traded 2 pieces of her perch for a piece of Keith's whitefish. The whitefish was MUCH better. It was our third trip to Crosswinds and the first two were better for Mary. But the calamari was pretty good. Mary made a sketch of the deck at Crosswinds in her mole with a ball point pen, which was all she had in her pocket.
We walked up the switchback sidewalk and took two more movies of the "singing" crane sculptures, and flower pix, and then took Graham back to McDonald's. We checked out possible movie (Walle-E), but the start time was too late. Then we searched for rice milk in Whitehall and Montague, but failed to find any. Mary and Keith walked down to get ice cream and sorbet at Peckadil's and sat on the swing to eat it. We bought two post cards there, one for Neil and Laura and one for Sara and Erin and Erwin. Graham stayed in the motel room to eat Micky Ds and watch TV. When we returned, we read another chapter in Moby Dick, had foot greasing and bed. Our PJs and the CPAP mask smelled like the Garage Mahal II. Ick! Mary worried the stench might keep her awake but she slept significantly better J (though not perfectly.)
July 21, 2008, Monday. Because there was nothing edible (for Mary) in the Continental breakfast and because we were unable to get rice milk to put in the dry cereal we had, we went out to breakfast at Morning Glory Café. Keith had eggs sunny side up with hash. Mary ordered sausage, mushroom and black olive omelette with no cheese—and got cheese. L (I think the same thing happened last year. L) Note to self—bring more rice milk, leave for home right after concert next year.
We crossed the street to an auto parts and repair shop to admire and photograph a 1927 Twin Cities tractor and 1923 Studebaker, in a parking lot opposite from Morning Glory Café. Keith examined the tractor, trying to figure out how the fuel induction system worked. After a couple of minutes, the shop owner came out, and engaged Keith in conversation about the tractor, and offered to start it up and let Keith drive it around the shop building. Mary took pictures.
Back at the motel, Mary made bran, Keith packed the car, Graham turned in the keys, and we left for home with Keith driving, Graham sleeping, Mary catching up the trip journal. First, Mary worked on the drawing (sketch) she'd made in her mole of Crosswinds, where we ate last night. She colored it with water color pencils. It's no great art, but Mary is pleased with it because it catches, in her mind, the flavor of the place.
Time check at 12:40 PM, we are on I-96 passing exit 117 B at Williamston. The sky is mostly cloudy with billowy grey and dark grey clouds, but the hot sun is shining on us continuously somehow anyway. Our air conditioner is broken. The heat bothers Mary and the wind noise bothers Keith. The scene outside the window is pastoral: corn fields and hayfields and hedgerows of ashes, elms, and black cherries (dead elms among them). Occasional woodlots. Now exit 122 Stockbridge. The roadsides are full of Queen Ann's lace and blue chicory, and the goldenrod is tall and looks nearly ready to flower. We are 73 miles from Detroit at 12:45. Keith says we've been on the road for an hour and 54 minutes. The highway is pretty busy and the traffic pretty bad and has been for some time, so Keith is working hard to keep us going at a good pace. Lots of 18-wheelers and other tracks and well as cars, vans and motorcycles. We pass some stands of sumac that are all yellow and orange—wonder if they've been sprayed—everything else is green. Home again--travel time from Whitehall five minutes under three hours.
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