In the Corn Field

 Milan, Michigan

We've been working our way down the East coast of Michigan. Each day is another day and another tennis court.



Today we pulled into a little RV park in the middle of a corn field. They're hosting a blue grass festival with some big names including The Little River Band.



The music is really good. It's all kind of like the "O Brother, Where Art Thou" stuff that George Clooney  and the Cohen brothers did a few years back.



Ulysses Everett McGill: What'd the devil give you for your soul, Tommy?
Tommy Johnson: Well, he taught me to play this here guitar real good.
Delmar O'Donnell: Oh son, for that you sold your everlasting soul?
Tommy Johnson: Well, I wasn't usin' it.

Meanwhile,  "flash mobs" are leaving the pages of science fiction, toppling Middle Eastern dictators, burning London and Paris and wreaking havoc in Philadelphia and other U.S. cities.



We got here late so they parked us here in the corn field with no water or electric. Mrs. Phred is very exited about all this and wants to spend the weekend.



We're between Detroit and Toledo. I'd like to go into Detroit and photographically document the American rust belt...maybe we'll spend a few days here before heading to Ithaca to enjoy the Fall grapes, peaches and apple cider. 



Pete: Wait a minute. Who elected you leader of this outfit?
Ulysses Everett McGill: Well Pete, I figured it should be the one with the capacity for abstract thought. But if that ain't the consensus view, then hell, let's put it to a vote.
Pete: Suits me. I'm voting for yours truly.
Ulysses Everett McGill: Well I'm voting for yours truly too.
[Everett and Pete look at Delmar for the deciding vote]
Delmar O'Donnell: Okay... I'm with you fellas.

Marquette, Michigan

Marquette is a very nice little city on the upper Michigan peninsula. They have lots of public tennis courts. My scores are improving. Mostly 6-3. I am trying to carefully place my shots rather than knock them out of the park and losing less points by not hitting stuff out of bounds.

They have bicycle trails all over the place. We cruised around on our bikes for several hours after playing tennis. I got into one downhill deal where I was worried about hitting a tree with my head. Many bikers up here wear helmets. I'm tired of taking pictures after six years of traveling and 30,000 shots of America. I'm tired of blogging. I'm tired of traveling. Maybe I'll work on a Masters degree in Taxation or Astronomy. Maybe I'll buy a house or two and fix them up to rent out?

Marquette seems to be economically driven by the University of Northern Michigan during the school year and by tourism in the summer. I could live here in the summer.

Porcupine Mountains State Park, Michigan

The Shore of Lake Superior

Back about 1983 I took Kenny and four of his 13 year old friends to see a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.



It was rated R which required persons under 18 to be accompanied by a parent. One of the kids was Dwight, a black teenager. The ticket lady asked if all five boys were mine. I said they that were with a glare and she looked at Dwight and said "what about that one?"



"He's mine, too" I responded. A Tampa policeman with more than a usual amount of good judgement waved us all through. There are places in the movie where everyone in the audience shouts out responses...One is where the guy with big lips falls into a pool and they all yell..HEY WAITER, THERE'S A TRANSVESTITE IN MY SOUP.... SHUT UP OR EVERYBODY WILL WANT ONE. ...



So when I first saw "Scarface" in 1983 and Tony Montana has the big shootout with the Colombians and gets killed and falls off the his balcony into the fountain, I just had to yell in the theatre...WAITER, THERE'S A DRUG DEALER IN MY SOUP.... SHUT UP OR EVERYBODY WILL WANT ONE...



Maybe I lacked good judgement back then...anyway..."Scarface" is playing again on the satellite. Al Pachino is back on "mob week" along with all his Godfather flix...Anyway, we're bouncing along the bottom of Lake Superior mashing our toes in the warm lake shore sand. We found a very strange tennis court surface in a remote area of rural Michigan.



It seemed to be metal covered with rubber...strange but very functional.

What's good for General Motors

Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan

In 1953, under intense questioning from American Senators, Charlie Wilson declared, "What's good for General Motors is good for the country". Charlie was the former head of GM and the current Secretary of Defense under Eisenhower. GM stock has always been considered a bellweather. It goes up or down before the rest of the market. Today GM shares dropped below $10 for the first time since 1954.


We're on the St. Mary River just east of the Soo Locks in Sault Ste. Marie (Sue Saint Marie). Sault is an archaic French word from the 17th century meaning rapids. The locks move the big iron ore haulers up or down 22 feet between Lake Superior and Lake Huron. You get a sense of the strategic importance of the locks watching the river traffic. in 1942 there was concern that the locks could be bombed from Norway. A number of radar stations and anti-aircraft facilities were established in Ontario to protect them.


There is a busy groundhog close to where were are parked and a flock of Canadian geese float by occasionally.

We spend an hour at the locks watching a 763 foot empty ore hauler get lifted up to Lake Superior

.


In the downtown we find a small winery. They are making wine in five gallon jugs. Their wines aren't bad. They go for $10 - $25 a bottle. I estimate that's a 400% to 1,000% markup on cost. I could do that. It might be my next adventure. I always thought you had to grow grapes to have a winery. Stupid me.

A Taste for Lake Trout

Tahquamenon Falls, Michigan

The area we’ve been traversing for the last week or so is called the “Upper Peninsula” of Michigan. The two parts of Michigan are not connected. We’ve been travelling along the southern shore of Lake Superior.


I’ve developed a taste for lake trout. These monsters come in sizes up to 60 pounds. The flesh, unlike their smaller cousins, is an orange hue. They are delicate and delicious on the grill. Every small town along the lake has a fish store or two where you can buy lake trout, walleye, king salmon and whitefish.

It’s now been officially 3 months since we set out on this latest journey. My mind is turning to spreadsheets and databases and I’m beginning to yearn for gainful employment. Whenever that happens I try to lie down until the feeling goes away.

We went to the upper falls the first thing this morning. It’s billed as the second largest fall east of the Mississippi, but I know three right offhand that are bigger.


We move on to a tour of a cranberry farm. We bought some raisin-like dried cranberries, cranberry bar-b-q sauce, cranberry jelly and cranberry desert topping. The cranberry farm has been in the same family 125 years. Mrs. Phred says she couldn’t live in the woods and raise cranberries. I think more empathetically. I imagine all I know is cranberry farming and think about dropping everything and looking for employment in New York City. Cranberry farming has its own hooks.


Next stop is the “Shipwreck Museum” at the lighthouse on Whitefish Point. The narrows here have accounted for a fair share of the 6,000 shipwrecks and 30,000 lives claimed by the great lakes. One old Captain made me laugh. He sunk four other ships in a month from collisions before going down himself in a fifth wreck. His attitude was “I’m carrying her Majesty’s mail and they need to get out of my way”.


The bell of the Edmund Fitzgerald was on display. That one made an impression on the locals. The modern “Big Fitz”, an ore carrier built in 1958, disappeared in a 1975 November storm with 100 MPH winds. The Captain reported a bad list, no light at Whitefish Point and both radar masts swept over board. That was his last transmission. They play some eerie music in the museum and cut over to the Gordon Lightfoot song now and then. I meet the Whitefish Point light keeper and ask him why the light was down during the storm. He is strangely silent.

We buy some lake trout and wine in the afternoon in the little community of Paradise and settle in to read. They’re playing “Dark Side of the Moon” in the fish store. I’m relieved that nobody notices my t-shirt. It’s very green here, high summer. The wildflowers are lovely. The north woods are lush and green this time of year. Everything is in a hurry to grow during the short summer months. The fall here is probably lovely. In the winter, the waves on the lake create huge ice sculptures on the frozen lakeshore.


I’m dreaming of something else, maybe a long dive trip in to Truk, maybe a job as a light house keeper, maybe something else entirely, like a flat in Ankora or a 100 acre tobacco farm...

We’re heading tomorrow for Sault Ste. Marie and then Sudbury and Ottawa before entering the U.S. in Cornwall, New York. Ontario has a lot of remote lakes where you can catch walleyes and pike.

Faith in the Bolt

Marquette, Michigan

We are running down the road and suddenly a tremendous scraping noise comes from under the RV. I pull off and see the seven-foot steel generator exhaust pipe on the road. It's still attached on one end by a strap secured by two rusty half-inch bolts. I pull out a deep 1/2 inch socket and try to undo the attached end. Both bolts are rusted and corroded from the heat. One comes off and the other bolt snaps. I remember Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm really mortified about the snapped bolt. I put the pipe in the RV.

Later I examine the exhaust pipe and see the problem. A U-bolt was not tightened adequately when the exhaust pipe was installed at the factory. The U-bolt was intended to secure the exhaust pipe to the generator. Perhaps big jet airplanes have better quality control. I hope they do, but my doubts reappear on takeoff.

We crapped out on the things we hoped for in this area. The fishing trip with "Uncle Ducky" in search of 60 pound lake trout was $550 rather than the $80-$175 that I usually pay.

We went into Munising to talk to dive Captain Lindquist (who I have visualized as a cross between Lloyd Bridges and the crusty Captain of Jaws I) and find out that the next dive trip is not until July 5th.

We go on Captain Lindquist's glass bottom boat to see ancient shipwrecks and I suddenly realize that all the dive sites for the shipwrecks are in 15-30 feet of rocky 55 degree water. I begin to visualize another trip to Puerto Rico for a 125-foot wall dive in warm water or a week on a Carribean live-aboard. There are over 6,000 documented shipwrecks and 30,000 lost souls in the Great Lakes. One of the shipwrecks is over 200 years old. It's an unidentified French boat that must have appeared to be something like a giant Cheerios box. Not really sea-worthy when the skies of November turn gloomy.

The guy who runs our RV park here appears to be crazy as a shit house rat. He talks really fast about obscure civil engineering topics. When I attempt to enter the conversation he ignores me. Finally I give up. Whenever I see him he has a shovel or chainsaw. He has built maybe 300 camping spaces here and so far has between one and three guests.

We had a nice lunch today in Marquette after I re secured the exhaust pipe. I had a portabello sandwich and Mrs. Phred had California sushi rolls. We each had two glasses of Reisling. In the background is another huge abandoned iron ore dock.


I'm totally puzzled by this old gas pump. It could be they have it set for $.459 and just multiply by ten and ignore the fact the the pump only goes to $99.99 dollars. Or maybe the rate is $1.459. Either way the dollars on the pump makes no sense. It's a mystery without any clues.

The Ontonagon River Canoe Trip

Porcupine Mountains State Park, Michigan

Our campsite in the State Park is on the shore of Lake Superior. There are a lot of biting black flies here to go with the view. The only canoe trip available is 15 miles on the Ontonagon River. The river doesn’t have any current flow to help things along.


Our guy drops us off in a remote area. He has tried to warn us off, explaining that there are eight hours of determined paddling needed to get to the end of the trip. We tell him about much longer paddles in the Everglades. We trade stories about drunken Chicago cops. The same group of 50 that went diving with us in the Bahamas also came up here and pulled in about midnight..


We launch and the flies buzz around our heads as we paddle. Mrs. Phred has a mosquito hat. It helps.

The river is pristine. It’s never been logged and the banks are covered with lush ferns and summer grass. We see dozens of bald eagles and a beaver dive into the river next to the canoe.

There are lots of shallow rocky places where I have to get out and push.



After 10 hours we pull into the marina in Ontonagon, Michigan. We’ve stopped a couple of times. Once I strip off all my clothing at a sand bar and go swimming. Mrs. Phred takes several full frontal shots. I have chosen not to publish these.

After 11 miles, a fisherman offers tow us the for last four miles. Mrs. Phred whispered, “Yes!”, but I felt that it would ruin the story so we doggedly paddled the last four miles. We both have minor muscle aches in our arms today.

Today we moved east to Marquette, Michigan on Lake Superior. They have diving here on old three-masted schooner shipwrecks, fishing for 70 pound lake trout and more canoeing. We may stay awhile and recreate.