Last week we started the American part of our journey on Drummond Island. Drummond is actually still in the North Channel and it is it the only US island in the North Channel. We had a short stop-over in Drummond, just to check-in with US Customs and do laundry.
About an hour from after leaving Drummond Island, we officially crossed into Lake Huron. Despite being a Great Lakes girl, I’ve never given Lake Huron much thought. I’ve lived my whole life on the Great Lakes, growing up in Cleveland and Lake Erie, then Toronto and Lake Ontario. Lake Michigan is also dear to me, I have many happy memories of summer days spent on its sandy shores. I don’t know if I’ve ever been to Lake Superior; however, Gitche Gumme (as it’s called in Objibwe) is a lake of legends, just its daunting size and deep cold water (also thanks to Gordon Lightfoot). We thought about dipping our bow into this great lake, just go in and turn around, just to touch all 5 lakes, but from the beginning we knew the logistics did not work, we would not have enough time as summers are short in the North. And then Lake Huron, a lake I’ve never given much thought to before. As we were planning this trip, I thought of Lake Huron as a conduit to where were going, nothing special, just a highway we needed to travel to get to where we wanted to go. But all that has changed.
Upon entering Huron we immediately noticed the clear, blue water, actually deep shade of turquoise, even in the commercial shipping channel, in well over 100 feet of water. As we docked at the Mackinac Island Marina we could see right to the bottom as clearly as if it were a swimming pool. The water wasn’t just clear, it was turquoise. The entire island is surrounded by this clear, turquoise water – we felt like we had traveled to tropics!
Mackinac Island (pronounced ma-KI-naw), measuring just 8.2 miles circumference, is home to a fewer than 500 permanent residents, several thousand seasonal workers and is a well-known tourist destination, drawing millions of visitors every year to enjoy biking and hiking through the natural beauty of the islands rocks, swimming the blue waters…and fudge. Yes, the island is famous for fudge. The main street is packed with typical tourist shops selling t-shirts and trinkets, restaurants and fudge and candy shops – they are everywhere! The fudge is made right there in the shops, in the front window. Tourists smash their faces against the shop windows to marvel at the huge copper kettles where the sweet concoction cooks before it is poured onto a giant marble slab where it is continuously mixed with a wooden paddle. Once the right consistency, the fudge rests on the marble to cool before it is cut into slices and sold. When walking down Main Street you notice three unusual things: 1) the air is permeated with the aroma of chocolate and sugar; 2) there are a million bicycles; 3) underling the scent of chocolate and sugar, there is the strong bouquet of poop – and there are horses everywhere. And you really have to watch where you step – easy to get hit by a bike, a horse or need to wash your shoes.
There are no motorized vehicles on the island; they were prohibited in 1898 and the ban continues through today. There are taxis, and they are horse drawn carriages. There are hotel shuttles, and they are horse drawn carriages. There are city garbage trucks, and you guessed it, also horse drawn carriages (we were told there are a few emergency motorized vehicles, ambulance & fire truck; however, they are kept somewhere well out of sight). There is a road around the perimeter of the island, state highway M-185, the only highway in the United States that does not allow motorized vehicles.
This was my third trip to Mackinac Island and Allen’s first. My first trip was as a very young child, on a family vacation and all I remember is buying saltwater taffy. The second time was with Latvian Girl Guides, a side trip during two-week long scouting jamboree in Northern Michigan, where the older groups of girls and boys were taken to the island for a special treat. All I remember from that trip is being horrified that we had to our uniforms….”Gaida Greenies” we called them. They are not the light cotton uniforms you see on North American Girl Scouts, oh no, they are dark green, heavy polyester, with pleated knee length skirts, knees socks, black shoes and long sleeved matching blouses, and a necktie. They were hideous and hot, and no self-respecting 17 year old girl wants to be seen in public wearing it. But there we were, I think about 50 of us, wearing our greenies traipsing around this giant a tourist attraction. My only other memory of that trip was trying out my fake ID in a bar and getting served a beer (while wearing my uniform!).
The third time’s the charm – this trip will not fade from memory. Allen and I were enchanted by Mackinac Island – we biked, we hiked, we had High Tea at the Grand Hotel…we will be back.
Next was Mackinaw City, cross the water on the mainland (not a typo – the city is spelled with a W and the island and bridge with a C). This was a pit stop to wait out some thunderstorms and restock the fridge. This town is a kitschy tourist-trap with none of the charm of its famous neighbor– just a weigh-point for people using the ferries to Mackinac Island.
We were happy to get out of Mackinaw City and set out for a long motor-sail to our next destination, Harbor Springs, Michigan. We crossed into Lake Michigan, noting the waters were still as blue and clear as ever. An interesting factoid I learned was that Lake Michigan and Lake Huron are not two separate lakes, but are actually one huge lake. The lakes are joined by the Straights of Mackinac, not a river, and share the same water and the currents often switch directions. Some time ago somebody goofed, gave them separate names, and it stuck.
I could not think of a place more opposite Mackinaw City than Harbor Springs, Michigan: sophisticated, genteel, elegant, old (and new) money. As you enter Little Traverse Bay, you can’t help gawking at the magnificent mansions lining the shore. The meticulously maintained homes, with manicured lawns and gardens bursting with shrubs and flowers are from a different era. Then you notice the gleaming wooden tender, shuttling inhabitants of these homes to and from town, where they have spent an afternoon on the private beach, or shopped the many boutiques or dined in the “members only” restaurant. The bay has dozens of small sailboats being sailed by kids in sailing school.
As we pulled into the City Docks Municipal Marina, we were greeted by friendly and capable bosuns, helping us tie-up in 20 knot winds. Not long after we realize our 42’ sailboat is one of the smaller boats in the marina – we are surrounded by 50+ foot luxury motor boats. We spend a delightful afternoon wandering through town, dining out, and the evening hanging out on the docks with friendly boaters. Cat Stevens, needing to stretch his land legs, does not disappoint – he instantly draws a crowd (“is that a boat cat?!”), gets lots of tummy rubs and acquires several more Instagram followers.
We’d love to stay in Harbor Springs longer, but Lake Charlevoix is calling. It’s hard to believe, but the end of summer is in sight, and Lake Charlevoix will be our last destination before we begin our journey home.
It’s a great experience that only the 2 of you can appreciate – enjoy your trip home & enjoy ??