Trying on the Michigan Mitten

    

Michigan Taco Truck

    Any reader of this blog knows of my great fondness for the Southwest, for the Northeast, for our stunning coasts on the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans. But you don't know how I feel about the Midwest, because neither did I. Oft dismissed as the flyover states, I fly over with a certain wonder about what the hell is down there.

    So when my friend Judy suggested a trip to Michigan’s Great Lakes region, I jumped at the chance. It was almost like a trip to a foreign land without the currency or language barriers, unless you count the Michigan accent. 

Child at the helm on Nauti-cat cruise

     Judy and I met in Traverse City, Michigan. I brought matching Lake Pajamas, and she brought  matching fishing vests. We never got a chance to go fishing, to get our vests all slimy and wormy and punch holes in the pockets with the hooks. Our only aquatic outing was a two-hour cruise on the Nauti-cat, a large catamaran with a laconic captain who had HOLD FAST tattooed onto this toes. Good advice for the passengers, as he regularly steered with his bare feet, and let small children take the wheel. 

 

Sun reluctant to set in Northern Michigan

     Traverse City is the Cherry Capital of America, and we arrived on the last day of the annual Festival in time to see the closing ceremony--fireworks over the bay. We thought they would start around 9 p.m. But no. They started at 10:30 p.m because that's what time the sun goes down.   This was a phenomenon we faced all week. The sun won’t go down in northern Michigan. We saw a road sign saying we had passed the 49th parallel which I thought meant we were in the Twilight Zone, but we were really in the Light Zone.  It was hard to know when to get into our Lake pajamas.

French fries in the news, Hotel Delmar

     We stayed at the Hotel Delmar in a very nice bay view suite. When Judy asked about an upgrade we were told there was nothing higher than what we had. The hotel has a small beach on the lake, where I could easily swim without turning blue.

    

Trattoria Stella burrata with salami "rose" 

   The Artisan restaurant at the hotel was one of the best in the city. We enjoyed many a lunch of Caesar salad and truffle fries presented in a faux newspaper. But the restaurant we really went nuts about was Trattoria Stella, housed in an old insane asylum, now full of gift stores instead of ghost stories. There we had calamari cornmeal dusted and fried, with roasted red peppers, shaved caperberries and hot Calabrian peppers, and a burrata to end all burratas.  

Back to Judy's summer camp

      Judy grew up in Cleveland, and Michigan for her is like Maine is for me. Some of her best memories came from her summers at Camp Tanuga in Kalkaska.  So we decided to visit, her first time in decades. Trips down memory lane like this can be dangerous. But this visit was all success. She was impressed by how little had changed, how nothing looked smaller, how the cabins were the same, the mess hall identical. She showed me the the spots where she was standing when she saw the Northern Lights, where she got her Red Cross badge, and where she was when she got a letter from her friend Wendy.  

Inn at Bay Harbor, Petoskey

     Onto the Inn at Bay Harbor in Petoskey, a glamourous lake resort with grounds as manicured as a new gel set. The shape of the lawns, the outdoor chess set, the sweep of the shoreline. 

Our Big Bear Adventure

     In Petoskey Judy and I were ready for an adventure. The hotel concierge was off that day, but a staff member handed us a brochure for Big Bear Adventures in Indian River, Michigan.  The drive there was adventure enough, 45 minutes of back woods and dirt roads. And there was nothing there for us. They no longer rented canoes, the river kayaks weren’t recommended for beginners, the raft trips needed at least three passengers and we were the only two there. We returned to town to do what we do best, have a ladies' lunch at Julienne Tomato and go shopping. 

East Park, Petoskey

   

Petosky

    My morning runs in Michigan were lovely,  I ran on Tart Trail in Traverse City, the East Park in Petosky, and around the perimeter of Mackinack Island. Weather perfect, clear air, an abundance of flowers, and very few people. 

The shore on Mackinac Island

     You have to take the ferry to get to Mackinac Island, There are no cars allowed, only horse-drawn carriages. The island smells of eau de equine. And fudge. Mackinack Island reminded me of Bar Harbor for Midwesterners. Except it's possibly even more old fashioned and conservative. 

    We stayed at The Grand Hotel, which might be better called The Grandmother Hotel, fraying at the edges and falling apart at the seams. There was a dress code for the dining room, where dinner was $120 a head. I felt terrible for the children I saw, packed into blazers and khakis, hobbling down the corridors in their “good shoes” to dinner. 

     In our room at the Grand Hotel, we couldn’t get the refrigerator open or the closet door unstuck. The handle on the French doors fell off. There was an antiquated coffeemaker, and the operation of the TV was so mysterious that we had to call the Front Desk. The long flights of stairs to path to the pool seems to be open defiance of ADA laws. The Grand Hotel got a call from the new millenium, but it hung up the phone. 

     Two good dinners in Mackinac, at The Jockey Club (plush on the inside, anywheres-ville for outdoor seating) and the 1852 Grill. We met a producer for 60 Minutes on the carriage ride there.

Arch Rock, Mackinac Island State Park

    We had a private carriage tour of the island. We learned about the wealthy industrialists who developed the island as a getaway from city life and built many a Painted Lady Victorian. 

    I get it now!  "Pure Michigan" offers clean air, bright and bold clear and calm lakes, intensely green forests, and lots of fudge shops. What's not to like?  Maybe the absence of a certain crustacean?

    By the end of the week I was tired of Whitefish, and craving a Red Lobster. 

Lush life on Mackinac Island