It had been many years since I last sat down into the drivers seat of an automobile and headed into Atlanta only to merge on to I-75 north and essentially drive until 75 was no more. 15 years I suspect, but here I was and here we go. I was driving with my daughter Maggie at shotgun and the Buick Enclave packed out with supplies. My Mother and Father also on the road trip, in his Dodge pulling his bass tracker. Between the two vehicles we had golf clubs, food, clothes of course, sandcastle supplies, bicycles, coolers, chairs, grills, fuel, first aid supplies, kitchen wares and even a guitar thrown in for good measure. We were headed to an old summer vacation spot known as Hiawatha Sportsman’s Club.
Located north of Naubinway in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, it was founded in 1927 by a group trying to preserve a piece of wilderness for their families and friends to enjoy. It is a members only Club and through some historical family ties we managed to not only discover it, but become a part of it. It encompasses 55 square miles or 35,000 acres and remains the largest privately owned property in the eastern United States. It boasts 5 miles of private beach on the northern shores of Lake Michigan, 37 miles of exclusive trout streams, 15 miles of River for Canoeing and kayaking, over 100 miles of wilderness trails for hiking, biking and vehicular exploration, an activity center with a museum, mini golf and tennis, a gun and archery range, a pristine 9 hole golf course with pro shop and of course, Cabins.
I remember in my younger days dreading the long and grueling 1,070 mile trip from door to door, but this time I was looking forward to it. We had a cooler some sandwiches, snacks and Plenty to listen to. Maggie and I settled into 75 on the cruise control and a mostly wide open road. We would travel as far as we could on this early Saturday morning and the road would be mostly empty and construction zones would be nice and quiet. We made good time out of Georgia and through Tennessee and stopped in Kentucky for a picnic lunch. Lexington, Cincinnati, Dayton, Toledo we were cruising right along. We bypassed Detroit (not much to miss) and trekked up 23 through Ann Arbor to reconnect with I-75 in Flynt. It was getting about time for a night stop, but there was a corvette convention outside of Detroit, the largest in the U.S., and hotels were booked up for miles. We had no choice but to push on and finally found a place near Saginaw.
I always love names in the regions of America. The southwest with its Spanish influence, San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco. The southeastern U.S. with its Cherokee influence, Tennessee, Alabama, Tuskegee, Tuscaloosa. The French influences of Louisiana with New Orleans, Baton Rouge and Lafayette. The upper reaches of Michigan are no different as we stayed in a hotel on Tittabawasee just outside of Zilwaukee.
We had to find a place that could accommodate a boat trailer and it also happened to have a restaurant in the parking lot. We checked in and settled in for a quick night of sleep and Pops and I walked to the restaurant for a much needed beer. It was an Applebee’s if you were wondering, but it struck me as odd. We were just short of a thousand mile from home, but could have been home. We sat at the bar in Applebee’s and it could have been anywhere in America. The food was the same, the beer was the same, Hell, even the conversations were the same. It’s 3,298 miles from Miami to Seattle, in that expanse you can pretty much find the same suburban experience everywhere. The landscape will change yes, but you will be able to read everything, understand everything and eat recognizable food. America truly is expansively ordinary. Let’s put some perspective on that shall we. In about the same distance you could drive from London to Tehran, the Capital of Iran. You would travel through no less than 10 countries each with their own language and cuisine. This is not to even consider variable dialects and unique local derivatives as in the boarders of France and Germany. The food alone would provide change and flavors from Parisian, mid European, Alpine, Baltic, the hundred forms of Turkish international cuisine and the middle eastern influence of ancient Persia in Iran. 10 different ways to issue street commands like stop and yield. Countless variations of road structure and quality. Can you even imagine a drive cross country like that? Chew on those little tasty nuggets of knowledge for awhile, I’m about to get back on the road.
The next day would be an easy one. We only had 239 miles to go and a little grocery shopping to do. We awoke relatively early, had breakfast, gassed up the car and were well on our way. We stopped at the last Walmart we would find for the next two weeks and bought our perishables. Meat, poultry, Vegetables, potatoes, coffee, beer, you know, the essentials. The last Walmart on our route also happened to be on the 45th parallel. Halfway between the equator and the North Pole. Only 111 miles left as we loaded up our groceries and merged back on to I-75 for the last push.
It’s funny how certain things catch your eye while traveling. I love how ever so slowly the mangy southern pines thin out and are replaced with the more shapely northern furs. Mighty and sturdy deciduous tower with majestic conifers, all while the soft delicate ferns quietly begin to take over the underbrush until you have a very different and very beautiful northern forest. You reach the north shores of Lake Michigan and small fur trees dot the beaches edge much like the palm trees of warmer climates. It’s just such a serene and beautiful place.
About an hour from our grocery run the mighty Mackinac bridge came into view. Maggie and I stopped at the little museum on the south side and walked the beach of Lake Huron for a bit. It was beautiful and majestic. Mackinac bridge connects the upper Peninsula to mainland Michigan and is a beautiful example of American engineering. But the bridge will be for another post. We climbed back in the Enclave and made our way to the bridge and over the straights of Mackinac and into the upper wilderness.
