Terri and Peter's RV Adventures

“Are you guys really from California?” she said in a flat Michigan accent, smoke curling up around her hand, fingers curled around a pink beer cozy, a Coors logo peeking out. “Yes” I replied, in staccato formed from a shallow breath intended to minimize the third party smoke encircling us both. This was the next door camp neighbor whose husband had quickly reminded me that dogs were supposed to be on leash, right after we’d arrived yesterday and I’d taken my eye off of Lily for a heartbeat as we were unpacking. This was her attempt at repair and I appreciated it.

(Morning meditation spot.)

She continued, “I know my husband thinks dogs need to be on leash but you can tell yours is a good one. Ours are hooligans.” When I told her about our trip and how long we were planning to be gone she declared us “crazy” and returned to her camper, joining her rude husband and hooligan dogs. I truly appreciated her screwing up her courage to come over and find a way to apologize for him.

Overall, we have felt welcomed and embraced by Michiganders. They are warm, generous, willing to lend you WD-40 oil for your out-of-tune steps (like ours), extend many enthusiastic recommendations for sights to see, and in the case of the neighbors on the other side, share similar political sentiments in a bonding that could only be called healing and reassuring. Those Michiganders we’ve met who are willing to talk politics start out very tentatively, noncommittal and with caution. They throw out Hansel-and-Gretel crumbs like, “I loved this restaurant, especially after I found out Barack Obama ate there.” That was my cue. That launched us into a forty five minute conversation about White Christian Nationalism (they “love Jesus” as they said, but left their church because it had become too political), Gretchen Whitmar (who they want to run for President with Pete Buttigieg but are afraid the country isn’t ready for it), the siloing of media and the brain drain of graduating masters and PhD scientists who would otherwise work at NIH or CDC but have no job opportunities there. It was refreshing and connecting getting their Michigan take on the political scene.

We left for two places we were told we must see while on the Upper Peninsula: Kitch-iti-kipi and Munising on Lake Superior. Kitch-iti-kipi was an unusual, other-worldly emerald green pond surrounded by forest. Apparently, a steady upwelling of water from an underground spring along with some other geological feature including a shallow, sandy bottom created the psychedelic green color. The native Americans have a much more exciting and romantic explanation but I’ll let you look it up.

Next stop: Munising, 50 minutes away, across the width of the Upper Peninsula and on the shores of Lake Superior. Following our camping neighbor’s suggestion, we took a two hour boat cruise on the Lake Superior bay around Grand Island. A glass bottom boat gave us a unique vantage point of two different shipwrecks. We floated past “Picture Rocks” with striated layers of rock showcasing different geological periods. The boat was a unique way to experience Lake Superior; serene to be on the water, inspiring to see the bottom of the lake and clarity of its water, and a fun way to spend the late afternoon.

We grabbed a quick dinner from an outdoor eatery and headed back to camp. New neighbors on one side greeted us like old friends (drinking much?), and told stories about spraying their property with weed spray with one hand and holding a gun in the other, shooting a garden snake 38 times. (The big guy hates snakes.) Laughter all around the campfire.

Maybe it’s a Michigan cultural holdover from hanging out on porches at night watching the sunset and chatting it up with their neighbors, but most campers sit around the campfire well past sunset, drinking and shooting the breeze. There’s never a lull in the patter. It’s quite nice, simple and an old school low tech, non-digital way of being in community. Practically every site has their family name engraved in a wooden plaque (as in “The Culberts Welcome You!” Or “Happy Campers, the Snapps”) proudly placed at the entrance of their site along with an American flag.

(Even though it looks like Lily is going after the ducks, she isn’t. She missed that DNA. Her entire focus is on the ball–getting and retrieving it.)

I’ll miss this part of Michigan culture and I am so glad we spent the time here that we did. It was a great way to immerse ourselves in Michigan summertime life at the lake. And we met many lovely people.

Tomorrow, we make another dent in our westward travel, heading to Door County Wisconsin, another place I’ve always wanted to visit and didn’t despite the fact that I spent 2-1/2 years in Madison and a year in Sheboygan in my late teens. I’m looking forward to this next phase of our trip, even as it seems to be coming to a close.