R and J in the USA

We arrived at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore in time to settle in to our campsite for the night. The next morning we drove through wind and rain to the town of Munising to catch our Pictured Rocks boat cruise. As we waited in line to board, an announcement was made that, because it was windy, those with a proclivity for seasickness might want to get a refund and avoid embarking on this little journey. Wow, we thought, this must be for real. A few folks exited the line disappointed, but clearly grateful for the heads up. We were not only undeterred, but Julie was a little excited to see some action on the boat.

Despite such happy anticipation of the thrills of a rocky ride, in fact, Lake Superior is a lake not to be messed with. It is only a technicality of fresh water that this body of water is named a lake, as its size, depth, temperature and temperamentality sure would make it seem more like what one would think of as a sea. Many lives and ships had been claimed by the moods of this not so humble lake over the decades and centuries, the most famous of which was made even more well known by the Gordon Lightfoot song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. So, when the boat cruise started and the lake was stirring, the captain announced that, if he deemed necessary, the boat cruise would be cut in half and all would be automatically refunded half the fee of the cruise.

As the tour set off against the cliffs abutting Lake Superior, it wasn’t long before oohs and aahs were heard as the stunning beauty of those pictured rocks lining the shore made itself known. The captain instructed us all on the importance of staying seated except for the short time it would take to relocate to another floor if desired, and that standing was only allowed on the bottom deck. We understood this warning when we had to fight gravity and an ever-shifting deck under our feet with each step as we made our way downstairs.

As the ship ventured further out into the lake and the wind and waves got deeper, it was clear the captain was going to call it. A wave broadsided the boat as it turned, and it felt more like we were on a roller coaster than a ship.

Julie has long had a tendency to go over worst-case scenarios in any new physical setting, not as an act of worry or neuroticism, but as an exercise in preparedness. She started running the scenario of the boat going down. How would she and the other fifty plus people get to safety? She imagined the brutal coldness of the massive, deep water. She looked to the shore that was probably a half mile away. Swimmable, she thought. Especially with life jackets. No problem. But the problem comes with the very thing we were there to gawk in awe at, those pictured rocks. They were sheer cliffs going straight up and down. There was no shore to land on and heavy waves hitting jagged or vertical rocks for miles in either direction. Well almost. About a mile up shore, there had been one pseudo beach for those courageous enough to hike out to it. Julie thought she could make the swim physically, but wasn’t sure if the temperature would allow it. And even if she could make the swim, how to get the other 50 people there safely? Despite these thoughts sounding at best grim, and at worst downright morbid, Julie actually enjoyed the riddle solving and was deep into it when, before she knew it, the boat pulled back into the dock. It was a delightful adventure amongst the Pictured Rocks, and, luckily, one not nearly as adventurous as the ones playing out in Julie’s imagination. 

We were happy that the boat cruise turned back early, as we actually preferred a shorter and cheaper ride. It was also a cold and rainy day, making warm, dry air inside the van much more appealing than the cold, damp air outside the van.

We had one more stop to make before we would, sadly, leave Michigan. We would be leaving so much of the Upper Peninsula unexplored and had missed out entirely on the southwest portion of Michigan. But, alas, there is only so much anyone can do. As we’ve traveled the states, we’ve often found that we’ve been to places that residents of that state still aspire to go to someday. Still, it’s part of the experience to be aware of the things we didn’t see in each state in addition to all the good fortune we’ve had to see as much as we have.

Our last Michigan experience would prove to be among our favorite. Not just of Michigan, but of the trip as a whole. In the Upper Peninsula there is a food that somehow has not been made known to the rest of the country. We found ourselves feeling grateful in some kind of romantic way that this delicacy has remained local and is something you can only find by making the trek to the Upper Peninsula. It certainly is delicious enough to be a food that spreads across the country or for some fast casual restaurant to cash in on. But, luckily, it has stayed in the hands of the locals. These delicacies are called pasties (pasty for singular).

Before you get too concerned, they are pronounced “pass-tees” NOT “pay-stees”. They consist of a filling, typically meat and vegetables, baked in a folded and crimped short crust pastry circle. On the way out of Munising, Ryan stopped at one of the many pasty shops to get one. Julie looked on, salivating and enjoying the delicious looking treat vicariously.

We then began our three-hour drive to our campsite just over the Wisconsin border hoping that the first blog post would be ready to go live during the course of the drive. We had managed to get much of the content written. And the itinerary was now planned out with a new state order, a 5K identified in every state through the end of 2024, and every day for the next two months fully organized and booked. This included our Alaska plans which would involve flights, an inland set of excursions, a 5K, and a boat cruise through the Inside Passage to bring us back southward. 

Then something miraculous happened. As we drove under a bridge and approached a left turn onto the road that would take us almost all the way through the UP to our destination in Wisconsin, Ryan spotted a sign placed on this earth by the gods for us mere mortals to read. It read, “Gluten free pasties and turnovers”. Julie resisted the temptation to turn the car around right into traffic with full screeching sound effects of burning rubber. She barely contained herself enough to slowly find a place to turn left to pull off the road and come back the other way. Practically in tears of joy by the time we entered, Julie was only slightly excited to eat a pasty after building up plenty of saliva watching Ryan eat one. They were out of gluten free turnovers, which was mildly heartbreaking since Julie had been pining to eat a turnover for about two months now. But she barely noticed that disappointment through her anticipation of what was about to go down. The gluten free pasties were sold frozen as they take about an hour to heat up. Unless you call an hour ahead, you are taking them frozen. Julie ordered two and would have ordered 20 if we’d had the freezer space for it.

We carried back on with our drive, both of us singing Michigan’s praises, not wanting to leave. As we drove, we realized that no matter how hard and fast Ryan worked through the drive, we would not be making our blog posting goals before Wisconsin. We surrendered and set our sights anew on finishing by the end of Wisconsin, which was entirely doable, if not preferable. Once we are back in full state exploring mode, it becomes much harder to tend to such things.

We were happy with the progress made during our week in place in Michigan. To state that Julie was happy with some gluten-free pasties in the freezer was the understatement of the century. We were leaving Michigan with the fondest of memories, the deepest of affection in our hearts, and the warm knowledge that we could turn to Michigan, quickly fading into our past, and say wholeheartedly, “That’s Petoskey for ya.”