As our time in the Upper Peninsula was winding down it was time for some reflection as I tend to do. We would slow down to what seemed like a crawl. An eternity on a beautiful golf course some how occurred in only a few days, a day of sandcastle construction that seemed to last forever. We continued to eat well and ride bikes, consume an amount of ice cream that bordered on obscene and generally throw caution to the wind. It had been way to long since I last honed my game on the course here, or roamed the endless roads through the forests of the sparsely populated landscape. Every place I’ve been has its own personality, the friendly and fun yet conscientious vibe of San Diego, the Ancient beauty and polite fidelity of Vietnam, the laid back carefree attitude in Isla Mujeres. Everywhere is different and the U.P. was no exception. It’s a place you go to find peace, to rejuvenate, to taste tranquility. It’s difficult to put into words how amazingly serene and relaxing are the summers in the U.P..
As our last week evaporated away, we would spend mornings on the golf course and afternoons on the beaches of Lake Michigan. Maggie and Mom joined us on the course so we had to use golf carts in our last series of games. Maggie finally had a chance to use her clubs on a real course, we usually practice around the house, and she would also drive the cart and be my junior caddy. Dad and I had some close matches and I soon remembered why I played so much better up here. The beautiful grass, cool clean air, endless sky and the unique landscape makes a golf game here somehow better. The ball comes off the club more easily, it finds the hole more consistently. I love playing golf here.
After golf Maggie and I would run off to find a new beach or known spot to set up shop and start digging. It isn’t unusual for a construction site to pop up on any patch of sand big enough to accommodate our enterprise. We would trudge around dunes, find evening bonfire spots left from last nights gatherings and generally have a fun adventure scouting the lakes shores. There was always a fresh piece of fish, pile of cast iron fried chicken to crunch on or a cone filled with a local dairy delight. It was a vacation that couldn’t last forever as my heart and waistline couldn’t handle it much longer. It was two weeks that can’t be duplicated and will never be forgotten. As always is the case, we spent the last evening checking on sandcastles and packing our large mass of equipment and supplies. We sat at the dock for one last sunset and reflected in the bask of the beautiful hues of the setting sun.
It was still dark when the Alarm went off and we climbed into the car. Every corner of the Buick was filled save for the two front seats. Maggie and I had a cooler with sandwiches, fruit, drinks and a bag with snacks, paper towels and pretty much anything we would need. It was 1,028 miles to our driveway and I for one didn’t want to stop except for gas. We had a quick meeting and agreed when it’s time to go home, well, it’s time to go home. The sun began to rise over the northern shores of Lake Michigan as we headed towards Mackinac bridge and what often seems like the rest of the world. It’s very strange how a bridge in the wilderness almost seems to divide a world in two. As we came to the bridge, payed our toll and began to drive over to the lower peninsula our vacation was officially over. The bridge is the unofficial demarcation line between vacation and reality. As we put the bridge in our rear view mirror, we would point the car south towards home. The sun rose on us as we headed towards Mackinac Bridge and 15 hours later it would set on us as we merged with I-85 and ultimately I-20 in Atlanta. We were home and would now officially put this trip in the record books and get ready to plan the next one. All I can say to the Upper Peninsula is next time I visit I won’t wait so long.
