Touring Michigan’s Upper Peninsula By Motorbike
One among the reasons I experience is for the spirit of dealing with the highway and life with a can-do angle, and another is for the joy of seeing the landscape unfold. If that is part of your riding psyche, too, you may feel proper at residence in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, or “The U.P.” as the locals call it. Stretching 310 miles from Sault Ste. Marie near its jap end to Ironwood close to its western border, it is a wild land separated from the Lower Peninsula by the Mackinac Bridge, and from Detroit (293 miles to the south) by main cultural differences.
I was born and raised in Michigan’s western Decrease Peninsula, and can remember in grade college singing the unofficial state music, “Michigan, My Michigan” (to the tune of “Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum”). Within the 1970s I used to journey up into the U.P. on vacation. Despite a move to California more than 30 years in the past I still return to my hometown, but had not been back to the U.P. since 1975. That is why I was especially enthused about the chance to journey there for just a few fall days final October.
On this newest journey I found the U.P. refreshingly unchanged, and reasonably than my early 1970s Honda CB450 I was now riding an Electra Glide Basic borrowed from Bald Eagle Harley-Davidson in Marquette. I was additionally accompanied by Brad Kolbus, from Munising, on his Road King; he publishes a rider’s information to the U.P.appears to know everyone, and knows where to journey and what to see.
Simply after we started riding along the Superior lakeshore by Marquette Bay, I instantly pulled Brad over at a imaginative and prescient that seemed proper out of a Star Wars film to ask, “What the heck is that ” It was a huge structure, massive and grey, and lots of of feet lengthy, a succession of excessive, shut-set concrete archways extending out into the water. Brad informed me that it was the outdated Lower Harbor Ore Dock, now no longer in use. Railroad cars filled with iron ore have been shunted onto it, workmen lowered chutes and the ore rattled noisily into the holds of the huge ore carriers that used to dock right here.
Next we trip west, the place we be aware signs of the approaching fall season: Pontoon boats up on blocks, firewood neatly stacked on porches and the leaves turning yellow. We attain Massive Bay; this little city was the scene of a murder in 1951 that inspired the ebook Anatomy of a Murder, and the 1959 film by the same identify starring Jimmy Stewart and Lee Remick. We grab lunch on the Thunder Bay Inn, which was the setting for scenes in the traditional film. The pub during which we dine was built onto the hotel for the filming.
Though Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie and Ontario are known as “The great Lakes,” they’re actually nice inland seas. In Munising I board a 60-foot observation boat for a cruise alongside the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The captain informs us that Superior alone contains enough recent water to cowl the whole continental United States to a depth of 5 feet! It is cool and blustery this present day, and once we clear Grand Island we’re in Lake Superior correct the place the waves start to rock and roll. Most of the patrons abandon the chilly, windswept open viewing space on top for the glass-enclosed seating on the main deck, as I consider abandoning my lunch over the side. All alongside the Pictured Rocks we’re handled to a humorous, working commentary about the rock cliffs which were eroded by eons of wind, rain and freezing weather, and painted in shades of brown, tan and inexperienced by the runoff of the limonite, copper, iron and manganese. We sail past caves, arches and a rock referred to as the Indian’s Head. A wide, filmy waterfall drops like a veil from the striated cliffs.
The next day Brad and i journey from Munising east on M28 alongside what is named “the Seney Stretch,” 25 straight miles by means of scrubland stuffed with stunted bushes and pines. Thirty-some years in the past I had stopped in Seney to stone island lilac hoodie commemorate that it was right right here, where Highways 28 and 77 intersect, that a younger Ernest Hemingway had disembarked the practice in 1919. Wounded in World Struggle I, Hemingway had hiked north to fish the Fox River, and would later fictionalize the expertise in one in every of his Nick Adams tales called The big Two-Hearted River. But wait, the 2 Coronary heart is actually well north of here; did Hemingway get it incorrect Nope. Like a real fisherman, he had misnamed the river in an attempt to maintain his favorite fishing spot a secret.
We journey eastward on a tree-lined two-lane road, and when we pass the signal for Deer Park I recall camping close to it on Muskallonge Lake within the ’70s. My night was enlivened when five raccoons got here snuffling up from the lake, begging on their hind legs. I gave them some bread, and half an hour later was toasting marshmallows over the fire when one thing tapped me on the shoulder. Startled, I turned round to find a raccoon, and after i turned again one other was running off with the toasted marshmallow as two others were scorching-footing it into the darkness with the entire bag between them! They don’t put on those little bandit masks for nothing!
Lake Superior is chilly, grey and whitecapped on this blustery day, and when the rain begins I huddle into my electric gear and crank the thermostat to “weld.” The Classic’s fairing and lowers keep the worst of the weather off me, and Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting dirge “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” plays through the stereo on our trip to The nice Lakes Shipwreck Museum on Whitefish Point. The track recounts the sea catastrophe that occurred on November 10, 1975, when the ore provider sank in a storm with all 29 males, just 17 miles northwest of right here.
In the Museum’s boathouse I meet Tom Farnquist, govt director of the good Lakes Shipwreck Historic Society. Hypothesis is that the SS Edmund Fitzgerald was too close to Caribou Island some forty miles northeast of right here, where 35-foot seas in forty five feet of water allowed the carrier to strike bottom, which broken her hull and induced her to take on water. She finally broke in two and sank in 535 feet of water off Whitefish Point. Farnquist has dived on the wreck and personally helped recuperate the ship’s bell, which now contains the centerpiece of the museum.
Dinner was at the Antlers Restaurant in Sault Ste. Marie, which was packed this Friday night time. Yeah, it is a Yooper place all right, with trophy heads and stuffed wildlife organized along the walls and among the rafters. All of the sudden, a siren sounds, lights flash and we ask the waitress what the heck’s occurring. “Oh, they do that every time they open a new keg,” she explains.
Within the morning we cross the street from our motel for a view of the famous Soo Locks. Sadly, at this specific moment there’s not a ship in sight. The Worldwide Bridge looms in the gap with Canada just across the best way.
It’s a few 55-mile freeway experience south to the Mackinac Bridge, then we flip westward on Highway 2 through low scrubland with Lake Michigan on our left. In Blaney Park Brad introduces me to Steve Zellar, who puts on an annual bike occasion referred to as The Blaney Park Rendezvous. He offers us a tour of his expansive campground that accommodated 3,000 riders last year; his 2010 rally shall be held June 18-20.
The thumb-shaped Garden Peninsula hangs down into Lake Michigan, and is residence to Fayette Historic State Park. Fayette was established in 1867 as an iron-smelting operation with huge furnaces, an extensive dock and properties; about 500 individuals lived and worked here. When the charcoal iron market declined, the operation was discontinued in 1891 and Fayette was abandoned. Today, it has been left as an arrested destroy, a reward from the past with its unpainted foreman’s houses, the previous lodge and castlelike stone remains of the smelter on picturesque Snail Shell Harbor.
We cease in Nahma on the Nahma Inn, a bed & breakfast with 14 charming rooms and a full bar and restaurant. Brad introduces me to house owners Charley and Laurie Macintosh (he seems to know everyone) who’re planning a bike event there in the near future. Subsequent door is the previous general store, which was abandoned within the ’50s with a few of its merchandise still intact. Its owner, a gentleman named Pat, provides us a tour of its time-capsule interior.
Brad leads us up H13 north into Alger County, and this fall Sunday afternoon we benefit from the turning leaves as the Harley feels surprisingly nimble following the highway’s hills and gentle curves. Every few miles a trail or two-tracks leads off into the yellow woods, the place muddy dirt bikes and ATVs disappear; we long to comply with them into the forest.
From there it is west where we visit Da Yoopers Tourist Lure close to Ishpeming. As an ex-Michigander it was just as corny as I might hoped, with life-sized dioramas of a Jeep pushed by a deer with a hunter tied across the hood, of deer enjoying playing cards, the place full of Yooper bumper stickers and souvenirs. Out entrance is “Gus,” the world’s largest running/working chain saw (it is within the Guinness E-book of Records), and “Huge Ernie,” the most important working rifle.
The ghost town of Fayette serves as a logo for a lot of the U.P. that, sadly, is suffering economically.
Along the roads are abandoned homes and factories. Tourism is now the main economic driver in the world, and there is much concerning the U.P. to love. To me, the true charm of the place-with its pines and cedars, maples and birches, hidden lakes and bays, and rustic cabins-is how the entire thing comes together. On this fall Sunday we rumble along backroads to The Up North Lodge near Gwinn. The sunlight dapples the red-and-yellow maple leaves, and there is a cool dampness within the air from a recent passing shower. We tromp inside because the fragrance of wooden smoke wafts from the stone fireplace. Many patrons turn to nod and greet us. Burgers and pollock, ribs, whitefish and smelt populate the menu, and a football game illuminates the massive display screen. This welcoming, rustic friendliness confirms that this actually is still Michigan…my Michigan.