Home again, home again...

We are headed home, with a little over 500 miles behind us from Traverse City.  Outside Springfield, Illinois, we have parked ourselves to rest up for the final push home tomorrow.  I am trying to be better about not power driving through to get home, after my 15 hour grind behind the wheel to get home from North Carolina.  I am retired now and need to adjust some behaviors that are a bit ingrained, so this is an attempt at one of them...Lord knows there are a few more (notice the religious reference?... see, I have it in me).


Looking back on this trip, it was fun to go where we have not gone before and explore a bit.  We both agree that Michigan will get a redo in the future.  The film festival would be good to take more advantage of and I loved the music provided by the kids and faculty at Interlochen.  We scouted out a better campsite with a view of the lake we were on...Duck Lake, for next time.

Yakin' on Duck Lake.

With more and more time spent in campgrounds, the type of people we run across are becoming more apparent.  We were surprised at how many people were not real friendly.  Some walk past with not much life in their face (the "zombies")...maybe it was the screaming, whining shadows following them.  Then there were the ones that don't think their voices carry very well across long distances, or at least to our campsite (the "aural fixators").  I would describe him physically, but then you might think I was picking on him because of his enormous weight, greasy appearance, and know-it-all tone in his voice...I'll just leave it at that.  There are the "normal" ones that wave or say hi back when encountered.  The "groupies" tend to be there with at least 3 other families and form a tent city as if pioneers circling their wagons for the night.  The "arsonists" tend to have a fire going all the time, no matter the temperature or time of day.  "Gadget-geeks" tend to have something for everything and it is relatively new stuff...from the SUV to the inflatable air mattress to the gas grill.  The "father/son" duos seem to be there to pass on the art of fishing and make memories.  The "beermeisters" we have not met yet, but I am sure in time our campsites will cross.  What are Miki and I?  Yet to be determined.  If we are not thrown out of our last campground tonight, we will continue to evolve.  We took the dogs out for a walk and try out this giant trampoline thing.  We obviously fit into the "blind" camper category, because we were not supposed to get on the giant tramp without paying and we had the dogs in the playground area, where it states, NO PETS IN PLAY AREA.  We will try to be low profile for the next 12 hours.

Cool jumpy thing we had never seen before and got on illegally.

"YOU MUST PURCHASE AND WEAR A WRIST BAND"
We missed this some how?

Dogs frolicking in... 

unauthorized area...oops.

We put ourselves under house arrest for the rest of the evening.

Well, it is becoming clearer what Miki and I will be doing the next 50 years...judging people in campgrounds, breaking campground rules, and visiting lots of campgrounds to do it.


My Zen from the Road:  Wallie's Law of Urban Proximity, the frequency of profanity increases the closer you are to a big city (involves the ratio of road conditions to the intensity of vibrational injuries in a tow vehicle).

...aaaaaaaannd CUT!

A side note:  I was recently greeted in the morning by Miki, as I rolled out of bed with, "Is that you or the dogs?"  I have been carrying it around with me since and need to release it, so thank you for listening.

I guess Miki thinks the 3 of us have something in common.

Traverse City Film Festival

This week marked the 7th annual Traverse City Film Festival and it was not hard to see the city was excited about it.  Signs were posted, tents were being erected in Clinch Park (a city park by the lake beach area), along with a giant inflatable screen for evening movies like The Dark Night.  While shopping with Miki and her mom one day, we found a women's clothing store window, that some creative person with some time on their hands, took film festival fever even farther into the world of fashion.

Made from cardboard popcorn boxes and tubs.

Strips of movie stuff, woven together.

And yes, real candy boxes.

How it all works, is that you go online or get a paper that has all the movies, times, and locations (and cost).  Buy your tickets and go.  There are places all around town that have been set up to house the viewing, from regular theaters to school auditoriums to giant inflatable screens as mentioned before.  There are educational opportunities and forums for discussion.  You may even run into Michael Moore.

Miki's sister, Gail, bought us all tickets to our first official TCFF viewing.  It was a series of 11 "shorts" for kids, although the adults appreciated them too.  There was a musical family entertaining us with music prior to the start.  

After 90 minutes of animation creations, we had been broken in to the world of film festing, along with a butt load of kids (some of which didn't appreciate the sadder or scarier parts and showed it with tears of  disapproval).

This was an illegally obtained photo taken during
"Michelle the Snail with Shoes," one of the  more humorous and short
animated shorts for kids.  She is just to the lower left of the Coke...with pink shoes.

With our initiation completed, Miki set out to select our next film for us to venture out on.  This time we would be alone, without the savvy of her older sister looking out for us (me).  Had I only known what was ahead.  Being the supportive husband I am, whatever she wanted to see was fine with me.  The first red flag was raised when she mentioned subtitles.  Oh well, I can do anything for 90 minutes (well... a lot of things anyway).  Flag #2 was raised when she mentioned it was set in Iran.  Not only did I have to read a lot, but it was going to sound angry too.  That's okay.  I know Miki likes a good foreign film now and again and this will carry me for awhile.  It was to be centered around a little girl and the word balloon was in the title...I'm good.  We arrived at the viewing, to an old building that was once a theater and a packed house...good sign, right?  When the beginning credits started to roll and all I saw was what looked to me like some type of Arabic, Sanskrit, turkey scratch - whatever, my anxiety began to rise.  And it didn't help to see that it appeared to be an older movie, when the guys had Travolta hair from Saturday Night Fever.  There was not a lot to read the first few minutes, so all was okay, but then the tone was set.  Every scene (to me) was drawn out way too long and my interest began waning...and we just got started.  But I was a good boy, even though I got to the point where I was wishing for someone to force my eyelids open and pour salt on my eyes, then wash each grain out with bleach.  Afterwards while we walked to the car, we did discuss how loudly it sucked and that she owed me in a major way.  I won't even tell you what it was about.  I'm afraid I'll start writing in an angry, Iranian way.


To get grounded again in my world, we drove up the coast to a light house and saw wine and orchard country.

Cherries are huge around here...not literally, but they are a major deal.

A vineyard, one of many, many, many.

The lighthouse at the northern tip of the peninsula
that splits the Grand Traverse Bay.

Stopped to get some picnic food and we ate on the beach by the
lighthouse, along with some feathered friends Miki made.

I became fascinated by a feather floating on the water, as it passed
us while eating lunch.  Kind of like a foreign film, but without
subtitles.

Enjoying another "slice of our pie."

We ended our day with another visit to Interlochen and listened to a faculty jazz ensemble with Miki's parents.  I cannot tell you how good they were...let's just say they were not an Iranian, subtitled film.


My Zen from the Road:  The foreign film described above was kind of like the show Seinfeld.    It was a lot about nothing.  The only difference was, I liked Seinfeld.  But you know, there were a lot of people at the end of the movie that seemed to like it, cause they really applauded (but so did I!...maybe for different reasons).  The nice thing about it all...different strokes for different folks...its all good!

Geography 101

Traversing Traverse City (too corny - got to draw the line somewhere)


We've been exploring and came up with two treasures...Traverse City and Interlochen, Michigan.


If you look at a map and find Traverse City, it sits at the tips of two fingers of water, protruding in from Lake Michigan...the East and West Arms of Grand Traverse Bay.  The downtown area shops have kept the old charm of the architecture while many of the shops are quite modern and fun.

Front Street, the shopping place to be.

A marina up the coast from Traverse City (TC in the background)

We packed a lunch, not knowing where Miki de Leon (not to be confused with Ponce de Leon, Caribbean explorer) would want to travel.  Due to the location of the city on the water, they have a beach.  Sand, sun bathers, and boats...we could have been in Charleston...well that might be pushing it.  But for these poor people that stick out the winters here, this is there Charleston.

Some freedom from the doghouse and these boys were feeling their oats.

A good roll in the grass cures all cabin fever.

A quick pose for the camera...

...before a couple of bitches trotted by
(you know what I mean, clean it up).
You should have heard the cat calls that came out of these boys.

After a drive up the coast, we found our way back to our campground, Interlochen State Park.  Interlochen, the town, is small enough that it shares a Chamber of Commerce website with a few other small towns with names like Chums Corners.  If you Google it, you will see Interlochen Center for the Arts at the top of the list.  I would go into teacher mode here and give you a little history of this melting pot of fine art talent, but this website video is much more interesting.  

www.interlochen.org/media/video-interlochen-center-arts-overview

Miki's niece, Cait (who just graduated from Florida State University - Go Cait! - and just moved to San Fransico to pursue her dance career - Go Cait!) attended Interlochen for 3 years with her interest in dance.  Our campground is right across the street from Interlochen, the fine arts camp.  Kids come from all over the world, but initially it was a group of 200+ talented kids from across the US that came together to form the National High School Orchestra Camp.  The founders came across a struggling summer camp and turned their misfortune into the beginnings of Interlochen Center for the Arts began.


We donned our bicycle helmets and after riding for a little exercise, we cooled down by riding around the grounds of Interlochen.

One of the outdoor theaters "The Bowl."  

We found an orchestra practicing in The Bowl.  We sat and listened for awhile.  You could hear the talent from these kids all the way to the back row.  Even the kids on the upright bass with their two notes  da da da da... were making their parents proud...well, whatever.

Practice huts

Each of the practice huts (above) were a little bigger than a baby grand piano, which many of them had.  As we rode by each one, you could hear individual students practicing pieces of different music.  Stopping and starting, again and again.  Other small buildings had other instruments playing.  This went on and on and on, it was quite inspiring to think that these were some of the best of the best, all in one place.

This building and the one below are examples of halls
to see and hear student's talent on display.

This one is called the Writing House.

Here we watched a music director take his vocal students through
warm up exercises on another outdoor performance stage.

This was the largest of the performance venues.
Below is a panorama shot.  It is an open air theater that backs up to a lake.

Even though my talents were cultivated in other ways (like farting armpits and building PVC marshmallow shooters), it is nice to know there is such a place for those into fine arts (finer than burping the alphabet) can gather and be amongst others like themselves.  


They offer student and faculty recitals in the evenings (which is where we will be this evening) and they bring in big name musicians throughout the summer.  Last night we were distantly entertained by the Beach Boys as we sat by our campfire.  We could make out the songs and hear the applause, but couldn't make out the words.  But then they are the Beach Boys and who doesn't know all the words to all their songs.  A nice way to end the day, sitting by a fire, listening to the Beach Boys at our own private concert.


My Zen from the Road:  At different times you can see small groups of the kids from Interlochen walking up the road to get ice cream or some other treat worth the walk.  They all have uniforms of a sort to indicate what level or age group they are.  Different colored knee socks for some and different colored shirts for others.  Even the faculty have a uniform.  How nice for all of them to be on the same level playing field and not to worry about their clothes and if they are the right brand or style.  Its all about the talent and the heart.  Strip away the outside and all you have is the inside.

True Colors

Okay, so when I talk about Miki and I "camping," those of you that have seen the doghouse know that it is in a different reality of camping than what most folks think of when they say or do the word camping.  When I think of camping growing up and actually until we started draggin' the doghouse, it was about eating around the picnic table, hauling water in 5 gallon containers, searching for firewood, campfires, and not washing for days (other than my hands)...oops...forgot one...bathroom adventures (Miki has had some good ones).

My camping reality has changed, evolved, transformed itself to a different place and along with that, I have thought recently that I was becoming a snobbish camper because of this 

non-tent experience we now are able to enjoy.  As we have walked and ridden through state parks on this trip, I found myself looking down my fiberglass covered RV nose at those that were in tents and not liking where I was going with that.  It then hit me recently that it is not that they are in tents or what other shelter they had brought to protect them from the elements, it was the people themselves I was having an issue with.

While riding around yesterday on our bikes I clicked a few pictures of our campground.  The variety of shelter is as varied as the people that brought them here.  From pets to kids and party lights to the size of your campfire, the campground has it all.  The pictures are a bit blurred, as they were all taken while riding my bike.

From the small...

...to the asininely large.

From the neat and orderly...

...to the tent city families.

From the well used and loved...

...to the large and in charge (celebrating Christmas in July).
It's all Good!

My memories of camping were those of friendly faces, sharing what you had, not afraid to ask directions or for recommendations on what to see or do.  As we walk around camp, people aren't as smiling or as quick to say hi back.  We do retreat into our hard sided home, but I can see to connect my new reality of camping with my old, I need to eat at the picnic table, have a campfire rather than turn on the TV, and spend time outside saying hi with a smile to those passing by.  That is more of what camping is to me, not where you close your eyes and lay your head at night...it is like what they say about motorcycle riding...it is not what you ride, it is that you ride.  I find that is true for me with camping...it isn't how you camp, it is that you camp.  You are there in large part for the outdoors and everything it brings.

Naaaa, that's all bullshit!  I like my bigass RV and when it gets nasty out, I revel in the satisfaction of being protected and warm (or cool) given what the weather is dishing out.  Me and my 10 m.p.g sucking truck will take on the tent carrying 40 m.p.g. in any campground... ... ... ... ...sorry I had to get another cold beer out of the REFRIGERATOR.  Sorry, I am having a hard time concentrating due to the sound of the AIR  CONDITIONER kicking on and off.  The energy I would have used to walk 100 yds to the restroom, I can use to open another pack of Twinkies and eat them while sitting on my own private toilet.

Sorry, not sure where that came from, but I can see that I am finding myself a new place as a "camper" these days.  My true colors will come shining through one way or another.

Sidelight:

We traveled a bit south to Arcadia, where Miki's mom and dad met at Camp Arcadia.  Walt started going there back in the 1930's where his grandparents had a cottage and as he would put it, he "misspent his youth."  The cottage is still there and so are the memories as he drove us around.  From the ball field to where the basketball courts once were, where Millie would watch Walt's svelte body in action!!!

My Zen from the Road:  It's not what you do, but that you do it (as long as it is not illegal and doesn't hurt anyone).

Moving Day

We slipped down the west coast of Michigan to Interlochen.  A smallish town just south of Traverse City, MI.  Interlochen has a fine arts summer camp that one of our nieces (Cait) attended for a number of years, learning and refining her dance. In the mean time, her parents (Rik and Gail) got to know this area and have enjoyed coming back without the original reason (Cait) for coming in the first place...confused?


Adjacent to the arts camp is Interlochen State Park on Duck Lake (close to Farfrompoopen... sorry I think I have already used that in a previous entry, but I never get tired of it).  Like Minnesota, the lakes are abundant in this area.  We set up camp and spent some time with our dogs after traveling in the car for some time today.

We are at the end of a row of camp sites, which is kind of nice.

We took the dogs swimming in Duck Lake and did some laps around the campground, getting to know where all the other dogs were tethered and every tree, previously marked with their DNA. 

We spent some time at home (in the doghouse) waiting for Miki's family to land and settle in their place, about 5-10 min. away...on a different lake...Long Lake...guess it's shape.

Here I am using Tuck for a pillow while striking a slightly
effeminate pose watching TV (not that there is anything wrong with that)
...it's all good.

Tomorrow should bring some good photographic opportunities.  We met another camper across the way that leads motorcycle trips in this area, as he grew up here.  He suggested some views to see and they happen to be in the direction where Miki's family is going to church tomorrow.  Me...I have had so many religious experiences lately, I may have to take this Sunday off as a day of rest.  We may be back with our motorcycles this fall though if our Michigan connection proves worthy.


My Zen from the Road:  Spend some time with the ones that you love...not the human ones, but all the other living ones.   They will appreciate it as much or more than the human ones.

Oh the stories this island could tell...

What a day!  Mackinaw (or Mackinac the French version...thank you Gail) Island was more than I expected and must be revisited on a future road trip, but let us start at the beginning.


Geographically, Mackinaw Island is very close to where Lake Michigan becomes Lake Huron under the Mackinaw Bridge, where lower Michigan is separated from the upper peninsula (UP) of Michigan...

Just above Cheboygan we'll say.

Around 1634, the "first" white guy stepped foot on it, and you know what happens when that goes down.  The story goes, according to our island buggy tour guide, an Indian tribe (that did not live on the island) sold it to the French (unbeknownst to the other Indian tribes that were living on it).  In 1780, Fort Mackinac was built on it after it was acquired by the British.  Then for awhile it went back and forth between the US and British until we ended up with it by treaty...blah, blah, blah-blah, blah...

Fort Mackinac sits up on a bluff, like all good forts.
Who wants to look up at their enemy when being attacked?

One last attempt at intellectualizing my bloggin' bubbas...and this was right off the internet, so you know it is factual...In 1822 Fort Mackinac's post surgeon saved the life of man after an accidental shotgun blast tore a hole in the young voyageur's stomach. When the hole never completely healed, the physician observed first hand what happens when food is digested in the stomach. His published experiments made medical history.  Now that's cool.


At some point in time (I'll spare you the details), the rich began building huge summer bungalows and The Grand Hotel among other places of interest (to some).

The Grand Hotel is the long white blur under the flag, as seen from
our ferry (I said leave it alone).

A little closer view.

And even closer.

And we're there.  You have to pay just to walk on the grounds.
Rooms start at around $250 per person per night...yeah, right!

If you were staying at The Grand Hotel, you were transported by
a more upscale horse and enclosed carriage driven by
a well dressed man, and their horses shit didn't stink,
if you know what I mean.

Next to the hotel were some modest summer cottages owned by some of the more wealthy business families of the time, many of these are still in the same family today.

Today, only a handful of people inhabit the island all year long, due to the harsh winters.  The lake freezes over and cars are able to drive across to the island.  And that brings me to our trip to the island today.  We boarded one of the many ferries (shush!) and enjoyed the short ride. 

There are no vehicles allowed on the island (except for some emergency vehicles), but there are a butt load of bicycles.  Since we had ours with us, we took them along for the ride (so to speak).  After the ferry gave us a good ride (stop it!), we disembarked and road to meet Miki's sister (Gail), her husband (Rik), her mom and dad.

The main drag in town.  Shops and shops, and more shops...
14 of which were fudge shops.

Since there are no motor vehicles, there are bicycles
and then there are horse drawn vehicles.

Pictured above:  Your Bloggin' Master, Gail, and Rik

Catching up on the porch of their B & B.

After getting our ducks in a row, we headed off to tour a small portion of the island by horse drawn carriage.  At this point I would tell you all about our horse drawn buggy tour guide extraordinaire, but I believe  as a safety mechanism to my psyche, I have blanked him out.  He, I'm sure, has done this for so long, it was as if he didn't hear himself and how corny his dried up old stories and jokes had become.  I was waiting for a snare drum roll and ding of a cymbal at the end of each attempt to grow his tip by "entertaining" us for the torturous hour he held us captive.  But I have let it go, in fear that he will appear in my dreams tonight.

Our tour begins as seen from my bench seat, juxtaposed
to the business end of these two fine animals.

After a nice lunch downtown on the main drag, we saddled up our bicycles and began the 8 mile loop around the island.  It basically followed the shoreline and was a pleasant ride.

Millie and Walt showed their prowess of balance, stamina, and poise.

There was a stretch of road where people had built cairns.  sometimes you might count dozens of them, some coming out of the shallow water, 10-20 yards off shore.

Miki's favorite cairn.

My favorite cairn.

As Gail went for another lap, the rest of us assumed our positions on the front porch, where our ducks were aligned earlier that morning, for some afternoon lemonade and freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies.  We then bid the family adu, and we headed back to the mainland.  Off to Straits State Park, where our children were awaiting a well needed potty break.  By this time of day, the number of people and bicycles had increased exponentially during the day.  The main drag as we headed to the boat dock, now resembled downtown Sturgis during Rally Week...just replace the bicycles with motorcycles and you can say you've been there.


My Zen from the Road:  It seems as though no matter what you have done, how hard you have worked, weird people you have been around (the vaudeville tour guide), or whatever the stress of the day has been, there is nothing a cool drink and a warm cookie won't help make better on a warm summer day.