I left Mackinaw City and headed north for the Upper Peninsula. I had planned to visit Sault Ste. Marie but my Michigan based friends said that the only reason to stop is for the Locks, and if no boat is coming in while you are there, it is not worth the trip. Upon their recommendations, I had booked a room in Munising, near the Pictured Rocks National Seashore, which was the most expensive stay of the visit because of its remoteness. It was also non-refundable, so I wanted to spend my time very carefully that day as there was much to do and see up on Lake Superior.
I crossed over the Mackinac Bridge, which was under construction. This made it surprisingly treacherous because one lane was unpaved and very loud to drive on. It is one thing to drive on unpaved regular road, but being suspended above water on one is daunting, even for me who typically is not bothered by infrastructure. Once I was in the UP, cell phone service became more spotty. I was headed to the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum, and my navigation device got me to Whitefish Bay. Made famous by Gordon Lightfoot‘s ballad “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” the bay is stunning. Apparently, this was not my first visit to Lake Superior, but it was my first of memory and the northern most lake is majestic. Despite the sad fame of the location, the grandness and beauty was awe-inspiring. The museum is further north at Whitefish Point, at the location of the old Coast Guard station. I wandered through the museum first, which explained Lake Superior’s deadly legacy, which has a long history of tragedy. The site also included a monument to the Edmund Fitzgerald and a small documentary about that 1975 wreck and an exhibt of the restored Coast Guard house. The day was stunning, so I followed the museum visit with a very long walk along the bay, occupied in thought by the men lost in the wreck and the peaceful magnificence of the place.
From there, I drove to Tahquamenon Falls State Park. I was very grateful that friends had directed me to this jewel. I started my visit at the Lower Falls because it was closer to where I arrived. Families were wading and swimming at the Lower Falls, so I waded in. It was delightful and cool. I nearly slipped a few times on the smooth rocks of it, but the wading and wandering was joyous. I returned to my car for a lunch that included the leftovers from my trip to Frankenmuth, which seemed of a different age up in the UP, but had only been two days. Then I drove to the Upper Falls, which had overlooks but was inaccessible for swimming or wading. There were multiple overlooks, and I hiked around them all. By mid-afternoon, I had hiked 18K steps. It had been a gorgeous day.
From the park, I headed to Munising, hoping to get there early enough to swim or kayak, as my friend who recommended it suggested that I do both. It was a 90 minute drive along forested roads that felt isolated and enclosed. As I drove, I thought about what a delightful day it had been and was grateful that my car–which had undergone extensive work that spring–was getting me safely around the UP. I arrived to Munising and headed directly to a Visitor Center at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, which was closing as I arrived. Unsure whether to find a place to swim or kayak that evening, I planned to head to my expensive, non-refundable hotel to unpack and make a plan for the next two days.
I returned to my car to find a completely flat front tire. I had enough cell phone service to make a phone call, but not to find help on the internet. I called AAA and learned that the local garage would not be able to help me until September, so their advice was to tow my car to Marquette, 40 miles away, where I had no place to stay for the night. I called the hotel for help, and the young guy looked for help on his network. I called AAA back, and they told me somebody was on the way to help me put on the spare, but an hour passed and nobody came. The cops came by and assumed Munising’s only tow company was on the way. I called AAA back and the tow company had cancelled because they needed details about where in the 35 mile National Park I was located. I decided to start out for the hotel on the rim and AAA urged me to wait as they reached out to the tow truck again. I waited another 20 minutes, started the car to leave before dark, when the tow truck driver called. AAA did not provide him the details he needed to find me, but he was on the job now. When he said it would be another hour, I started crying. He made me promise not to move because he thought he could fix the tire at this point, but was less certain of that if I drove on it. Derek–now in my cell phone–arrived about 20 mintues later and fixed the tire, sparing me a tow to Marquette and the cost of a new tire. He mentioned that his wife reminded him to bring dish soap to find the hole in my tire, and I told him he had just broken my heart because I had planned to marry him, as he was the most dependable man I met in awhile. We laughed, and I think he followed me to make sure I got to the hotel that night. By the time I did, I was so tired I could barely stay awake.