Seward is a rustic port town where our water adventure ends and our train adventure begins. The ability to transition from one to the other was a major draw of this particular cruise.

Our little group of eight as well as 38 others left the ship around 8:00 this morning and boarded a bus for the two-and-half hour ride to Anchorage, Alaska’s largest city. It rained the whole way.

We got to Anchorage in time to grab a quick lunch before our self-guided tour of the Alaska Native Heritage Center. The collection of dwellings and meetinghouses was the most interesting feature of the museum. Unless you count the fun and friendly women selling their crafts. Cyd bought a pair of earring with mammoth (as in pre-historic animal) beads and I bought a pair with porcupine quills. We laughed and enjoyed the company of the women who were so generous with their time and enthusiasm for the details of their respective crafts.

We bellied up to the bar for a simple meal at the Anchorage Downtown Marriott and headed to our rooms early. All but Cyd, that is. An old friend from home who lives here now picked her up at the museum, so they could enjoy the afternoon and evening catching up.

… Really? …

Every July 4th, Seward hosts a 1.5 mile race up and back down Mount Marathon.
Starting at sea level, the race rises 3,000 feet in elevation and covers very steep terrain. Runners race over gullies, ice, and snow using their hands to haul themselves to the finish line.

The United States purchased Alaska from Russia for a price of $7.2 million in the spring of 1867.
This very unpopular decision was negotiated and signed by Secretary of State William Seward.

Our last full morning on board ship was dedicated to one of Alaska’s most exciting natural treasurers: Hubbard Glacier. Named after the founder and president of the National Geographic Society, it is the longest tidewater glacier in the world. At approximately 7 miles wide, 76 miles long and as tall as a 30-story building above the waterline, it’s the largest river of ice in North America and dramatically massive. It is estimated that this river of ice that flows directly into Disenchantment Bay began forming 400 to 500 years ago from the snowfalls on the slopes of Mount Logan. While most of the world’s glaciers are retreating, Hubbard Glacier has continued to thicken over the years.

We made our approach starting around 6:30 this morning and were situated as close to it as the captain dared or was allowed by 8:30. Binoculars in hand, I (Typhoid Mary) enjoyed the approach from our balcony and the rest met for an early breakfast and enjoyed it there.

The weather was cooperative: overcast with low clouds that kept moving lower as we made our approach and then retreated once we got there. At the entrance of the bay waterfall after waterfall looked like white ribbons running down the sides of the velvet green mountains on the starboard side of the ship. Landslides were evident; some peaks were snow capped; and small ice flows and mini-icebergs were more numerous as we got closer.

By the time we were face to face with the glacier our little gang was bundled up and enjoying the view together on our respective balconies which, by the way, are lined up side by side. The captain did two 360 degree turns so that everyone, cabin bound or not, had perfect views of the face of the gigantic aqua river of ice. It calved a few times for our enjoyment and was noisier than we expected. It sounded like thunder in the background and like little pops from fireworks up close.

I ordered my easy-on-the-tummy breakfast and enjoyed it while we moved slowly out of the bay. Views from the balcony door were gorgeous. The mountains that hugged the shore on our side of the ship (starboard) almost seemed within reach. They did not have falls of water like I saw on our approach, but they did have falls of something black that ran from the top and ended in pools of what looked like black sand near the water’s edge. These ribbons of black were a stark contrast to the ultra-green snow capped mountains.

Once out of the bay we headed north and enjoyed our last day at sea. The others had the run of the ship, met for lunch, and attended the lecture on bald eagles. I amused myself in the room with my book, a movie (The Man From Toronto), a hot shower, a room service lunch, and a little bit of pre-packing.

I got the all clear from Medical at 4:00 PM, so I was able to join the others for a last four-course meal in the dining room. We all passed on the evening’s entertainment, so we could get organized and have our bags tagged and in the hallway before 10:00 PM.

All things considered, it was a great last full day on board ship.

Ninety miles north of Juneau at the northernmost point in the Inside Passage lies this former boomtown, gateway to the Trail of ’98 and the Klondike gold fields. It was so popular at the turn of the last century that it became the first incorporated city in all of Alaska. In the last 120 years the population has dwindled from 20,000 feverish fortune hunters to about 1,000 year-round residents today.

It’s apparently the intent of the hearty locals to retain the look and charm of their town’s gold rush period. A collection of restored 19th-century buildings, the Brothel Museum, and its historic railway make up Skagway’s charming downtown. I have no firsthand knowledge of its charm and appeal, however, because I woke up in the wee hours not feeling well, so I did not go ashore today. But the others did. Walter and Cleone went into town to stroll around; Cyd and Barb visited a dogsled camp; and Dan, Ronnie, and Hettie boarded a vintage rail car and went 20 miles on the narrow gauge White Pass Scenic Railway.

All the while I nibbled tea and bread for breakfast, had more tea and bread for lunch, watched the very cute movie About My Father, finished my book (The Last Days of Cafe Leila), and stopped by the clinic to verify I had been ill, so I could get a refund for the seven-hour tour I missed. What I anticipated would be a rubber stamp sort of deal turned into my being quarantined in our room for 24 hours starting from the time I went to the clinic, not from the time I was actually sick. So while my pals attended the lecture on Hubbard Glacier, enjoyed a lobster dinner, and went to the evening’s entertainment, I enjoyed the view from our balcony, started a new book (Good Time Girls), and had an ordered-off-the-bland-diet-menu dinner delivered. I have to give it to Celebrity for taking so seriously the safety of the population at large and not just the mild inconvenience to me. Silly me for not reporting to sick call this morning since I was onboard all day anyway.

Dan started the trip not feeling his best; Cleone was down a day with a killer headache; and two days ago Ronnie apparently had what I got. Let’s hope this sickness thing stops with me.

On the bright side here’s a funny our Scottish guide shared with us the other day. He said that men have always outnumbered women in Alaska, so if you’re looking for a man, your odds are good, but the goods are odd. Get it?

… So Just How Hard Was It to Get to the Gold Fields? …

The first issue prospectors had to face was getting to the West Coast if they were not there already.
The next step was to book passage on a steamship headed north through the Inland Passage.
The journey from Seattle, for example, to the gold fields was a daunting 2,000 miles.

Those who could not afford to leave home with the year’s supply of food that Canadian authorities required plus necessary supplies, purchased them from outfitters along the way.
Being the end of the steamship line, Skagway, in particular, was a good place for that.
All told each person was challenged with transporting more than 2,000 pounds up and over the treacherous 33-mile Chilkoot Pass or the less treacherous but longer 45-mile White Tail Pass.
In order to transport their ‘ton of goods’ each stampeder had to make many trips over the pass.

Once in Carcross, they faced the challenge of building some sort of watercraft capable of making
the 600-mile journey north to Dawson City, via the Yukon River. 
Once in Dawson they were free to try their luck before the year’s snow and ice arrived.

Within six months, approximately 100,000 gold-seekers set off for the Yukon.
Only 30,000 completed the trip.

Many Klondikers died, were fleeced out of their money and provisions, became too ill to travel, or lost enthusiasm and either stopped where they were or turned back along the way (think Ketchikan). 
Those with a head for business, both men and women, prospered enormously
by opening business that supported the needs of those with gold fever.

Of these 100,000 fortune seekers, a few returned home wealthy,
but far more didn’t even recoup the cost of the trip which averaged $1,200.
A LOT of money in those days.  

We woke up to a dense blanket of fog in the only state capital that borders (100 miles away) a foreign country: Juneau. In spite of the city’s location tucked up against a mountain on the Alaskan mainland, all goods coming in and going out must go by plane or boat. Cha-ching. There is no access by road.

We were met on the dock by colorful totem poles, welcome signs in various languages, and Juneau’s most famous dog, Patsy Ann, a bull terrier who came to town in 1929. Back in the day her activities were recorded by Juneau’s daily newspaper. She was allowed to wander the aisles of the Coliseum Theater during musical performances; she stopped by local shops in hopes of treats; and she left her paw prints on a newly paved sidewalk on South Seward Street. Juneau’s mayor dubbed her the Official Greeter of Juneau in 1934. Here’s a fun twist: The New Mexican artist who won the commission for the design of the statue included clippings of dog hair from all over the world in the bronze at the time of casting to symbolically unite the spirit of dogs everywhere.

Scholars believe indigenous peoples have inhabited Southeast Alaska for more than 10,000 years. This area is the traditional homeland of three distinct ethnicities: Tlingit, Haida (high-da), and Tsimshian (sim-shee-an) which explains the top notch museums highlighting comprehensive collections of art, artifacts, books, and film. Thanks to 1880’s prospectors Harris and Juneau and Tlingit Chief Kowee who guided them to the mouth of Gold Creek, the state’s first major goldstrike was on. The remains of three different mining complexes are still intact as are Klondike-era hotels and saloons, onion-dome churches, and colorful Victorian homes.

None of us had time for the museums or mines because we chose other things. Cyd, Barb, Dan and I spent our time whale watching and hiking into Mendenhall Glacier. Like so many glaciers Mendenhall is shrinking at an alarming rate. That said, as first timers to the area we found it and its surroundings to be beautiful as well as impressive. While not as clock stopping as Cyd and Barb’s whale experience yesterday, our trip was still a total success. About 15 humpbacks flowed majestically in and out of the water the whole time we were there. Our favorite moment was when a humpback that had come closer to the boat with each breath went under the back of the boat and popped up right next to us before diving down and exposing his tail for all of us to see. Once the bottom of his tail was out of the water our guide and captain told us his name and gave us a little bit of his history (born in Hawaii but summers in this area with his mom).

Walter and Cleone (fully recovered from yesterday’s headache) had their favorite experience so far on their tour of a dogsledding camp. Hettie and Ronnie visited Mendenhall Glacier also and then had a salmon lunch.

A huge unexpected plus to the day was the sun. Once it burned off the fog it stayed all day.

.. For Real …

To date only one Alaskan governor, William Egan, has actually been born in Alaska.

A 13-year old boy, Benny Benson, an Aleut, designed the flag of Alaska.
He won a contest in 1927 when Alaska was still a territory.

 Alaska is the largest state in the United States by a long shot. 

Alaska became a state in 1959.

located on Chichagof Island, Icy Strait Point is a cruise destination that is only open to the public when a ship is in port. Its epicenter is a restored 1912 salmon cannery which now houses a museum, local arts and crafts shops, restaurants, and a mid-1930s cannery line display. Icy Strait Point is Alaska Native owned and operated with all profits directly supporting the community of Hoonah, Alaska’s largest Native Tlingit village. Chichagof Island is home to more brown bears than humans. We had no fear of course (gulp), because we had done the deep dive into bears at the lecture yesterday afternoon.

Cyd and Barb went whale watching; Cleone was down all day with a killer headache; and Walter, Dan, Hettie, Ronnie, and I checked out the cannery, rode the cable car, and walked the mile and a half to Hoonah, a small, unassuming town built at the water’s edge. Dan embellished his day hunting shells near the shore. My favorite activity so far this trip was a short hike through the mesmerizing forest here on the island. The trail is kept clear but everything else is left for nature to deal with as it will. Moss, ferns, trees, and small plants smother the forest floor in a velvety carpet of various shades of green. The trail is marked with, I kid you not, instructions on what to do and not to do (run) if you come across a bear.

Icy Straight boasts the world’s largest (5,330 feet long) and highest zip line with a shocking 1,300-foot vertical drop. I intended to take this 13 second, 60 mile-an-hour plunge to my near death after lunch but got lazy and, darn it, didn’t just go for it.

We kept with tradition and met for cocktails, sans Cleone, before going to dinner and the show. Cyd kept Cleone company at the buffet and the rest of us ate our customary four courses in the dining room.

Most of us saw seals playing near the shore and bald eagles. Dan and Walter even managed to see (whale) docile fins at a distance, but the wildlife sightings blue ribbon goes to Barb and Cyd who had a National Geographic experience on their whale watching excursion. Their disappointment at running across one humpback that seemed to be napping quickly turned to excitement when they ran into a pod of orca and then a courting humpback couple. The orca got so close to the boat that they could have touched them had their arms just been a little longer. In fact the spray from one blow hole misted their faces and clothes! The courting humpback couple not only breached at the same time, they slapped tails for well over 10 minutes!

Due to its steep and forested terrain, this town of about 6,000 year round residents is long and narrow with much of the built-up area located along or no more than a few city blocks from the waterfront. For such a small place it has distinguished itself in a number of ways. For one, downtown Ketchikan is a National Historic District. It is considered the Salmon Capital of the World (home to five species) as well as the Rain Capital of Alaska with its 160 inches of rain a year. We got spit on a few times, but by the time our umbrellas were out of our backpacks and up, the rain was over. An anomaly since it rains 300 days a year here.

The Tlingit (cling-it) people consider this their ancestral home and camped here for untold years before trappers, traders, and gold seekers arrived. They are credited with telling the history of their people through sculptures carved on wooden poles. They’ve in fact carved the world’s largest collection of totem poles, a collection that includes those recently carved and some that are more than 100 years old. These are found throughout the city, at three parks, and the Totem Heritage Center. Check your passport because the Chief Kyan pole is one of the featured background images in most U.S. passports.

Ketchikan’s location on Revillagigedo Island at the southern end of the Inside Passage is at the heart of its development and history. Men arrived in droves between 1897 and 1907 with high hopes of striking it rich in the gold fields up north. Many didn’t have enough money to complete their journey and ended up here. Ketchikan became a fast-growing town known for fishing, logging, and lots and lots of lonesome men. Enterprising pioneer businessmen opened saloons and trading posts. Enterprising pioneer women capitalized on the situation by working in dance halls, laundries, performing in stage productions, and opening brothels. Creek Street was lined with as many as 30 brothels between 1903 and 1953. Add much needed missionaries and you got yourself a dot on the map.

Barb arranged for a private tour with a hoot of a kilt-wearing Scot, Cruin MacGriogair, as our guide. He talked us though all things bald eagle, situated us so that we could see a bear feeding (on salmon) in the wild, gave us a bird’s eye view of salmon swimming up stream to spawn, and walked us through a brief history of the town. As a carver and craftsman he has a particular appreciation for the workmanship and cost of totem poles. He brought a small block of wood and gave us a chance to feel inept at gently wracking away extra wood. Walter did the best, Dan the worst, and Barb and I got honorable mentions.

While strolling around town the undeniable scent of freshly popped corn proved irresistible. Cyd, Dan, Barb, and I scarfed down a huge bag of kettle corn like starving wolverines and were no sooner on board ship than we regretted not getting another. How can something as simple as popcorn be so memorable?

Anyway, we were all back on board near noon in time to strap on the ole feed bag and be in the theatre for a presentation on the bears of Alaska. We learned about their differences in appearance and temperament as well as their similarities. Considering bears outnumber humans in these parts, it seemed a wise choice for an afternoon activity.

Cocktails were followed by dinner and then a wonderful tribute to Whitney Houston by Cheaza.

A day at sea, just what the doctor ordered for us weary, jet lagged, already overfed travelers.

I was uncharacteristically up before sunrise and ready to take in what is touted to be one of Alaska’s main attractions, the Inside Passage. So what is it exactly?

The Inside Passage is a system of waterways for ships, boats, canoes, and kayaks that weaves through a labyrinth of fjords, bays, and 1,000 islands. Tourists like us have been cruising the Inside Passage since 1881 when a steamship company began offering monthly sailings aboard two ships. Standard cabin: $30; steerage/economy: $15. During the Klondike Gold Rush the Passage was one of the sea routes from Seattle and California that carried hopeful, prepared, and unprepared prospectors north. Walter told us last night its nickname is the Blue Highway.

Dan jumped out of bed early this morning too and had the buffet all to himself. He brought breakfast back to the room, so he could enjoy the scenery from our balcony. I had a continental breakfast delivered to the room which I enjoyed on the balcony wrapped in a lush bathrobe and slippers. A good start to the day!

Our first/only event of the day was attending a kick ass presentation on whales presented by Celia Garlan. Cleone and Walter attended all of her lectures on their Antarctica cruise and highly recommended we give her a try. They were right, she is fabulous. She covered all things whale and was just as good as W&C practically guaranteed us she would be.

We had a cool, overcast morning that morphed into a sunny, windy afternoon. Presumably because we are at the end of the cruising season, we only saw a couple other ships plus a few small fishing boats. It reminded me of transiting the Panama Canal in that it was serenely quiet. We lucked into seeing quite a few vapor sprays, so we knew whales were near by, but they refused to surface for our amusement.

Dinner tonight was casual chic so we all turned up in our finery. We lucked into the same table as last night, that Dan and Hettie selected, which is perfectly centered on the massive picture window in the dining room. Our leisurely dinner was delicious. We went from the dining room to the entertainment, which was an energetic song and dance review of the 1970s, before getting organized to leave the ship early tomorrow morning.

… Famous People Associated with Alaska ...

Born in Utah, the 90’s singer and songwriter Jewel (Kilcher) grew up in Homer, Alaska.

While stationed up north with the Air Force, Bob Ross was inspired by Alaska’s stunning landscapes and eventually became a well-known artist whose TV show taught millions of Americans how to paint.

Wyatt Earp, legendary gunfighter and deputy marshal of Tombstone, Arizona, moved to
Nome in 1897 during the height of the Gold Rush. 
He opened the Dexter Saloon, Nome’s first two-story wooden building. 

Larry Sanger, raised in Anchorage, co-founded Wikipedia in 2001. 

The Call of The Wild author Jack London moved to Alaska to seek gold.

Douglas Eboch, known for his work on the 2002 comedy “Sweet Home Alabama,”
graduated from Juneau-Douglas High School.

Carl Ben Eielson initially went to Alaska to teach secondary school but made history by flying the first air mail in Alaska in 1924 and after a 1928 flight across the Arctic Ocean he established Alaskan Airways.

Sarah Palen served as the ninth governor of Alaska and was the
2008 Republican vice presidential nominee alongside U.S. Senator John McCain.

Thursday
Just like our Michigan adventure, this Alaska trip was postponed year after year because of Covid. Our original group of travelers patiently waited and are now together at long last. Walter and Cleone came from Oklahoma, Cyd from Arkansas, Hettie and Ronnie from Maryland, and Barb from North Carolina. Thank you Hettie and Ronnie for organizing and then reorganizing this adventure from start to finish.

We all flew into Vancouver, British Columbia a day early and met at a downtown hotel a mile from the port. The earliest of us birds headed to the airport at 3:30 this morning followed by Dan’s and my trip at 5:30 with Barb, who did not get to the hotel until 9:30 PM, bringing up the rear.

Cyd, Hettie, Ronnie, Walter, and Cleone spent their free afternoon in Vancouver checking out Granville Island which they thought was charming and fun. They browsed the markets and shops and stopped for an early dinner before heading back to the hotel. Dan and I arrived too late to join them, but we fared really well at a design-your-own-pizza shop a block from the hotel, and Barb ate on the move.

A long day, one way or the other, for all of us with the time change and all the travel. We went to bed feeling fortunate to have had nice weather, on-time departures, and easy connections.

Friday
Sun, the promise of a 77 degree day, and clear skies greeted us when we pulled back our curtains this morning. A perfect day to set sail. We had synchronized our boarding times for Celebrity’s Millennium, so our little enthusiastic group headed to the dock in time to board at 10:00. We relinquished our luggage, showed our printed-at-home boarding passes, cleared immigration, and then waited patiently to board.

Our staterooms were not quite ready, so we positioned ourselves near the window in the buffet and began what would surely be the consumption of a regrettable amount of food over the course of the trip.

Our afternoon passed quickly as we unpacked, settled in, figured out the internet, and got organized for cocktails followed by dinner followed by a laugh-out-loud stand up act by A.J. Jamal. After the show, believe it or not, we headed back to the buffet so half of our group could have a little snack before heading to bed.

A very satisfying day one.

… What’s Not to Love About Vancouver …

The California roll, Botox, and Greenpeace have their origins here.

Vancouver is home to Canada’s only nude beach.

Vancouver is the largest port city in Canada and boasts the 4th largest cruise ship terminal in the world.

Vancouver is home to Kitsalino Pool, North America’s longest swimming pool.
Nearly the size of three Olympic pools, this saltwater, outdoor, heated pool opened in 1931.

Vancouver boasts more parks than any other city in the world. The largest, Stanley Park, is 10% larger than Central Park and has the longest (as in 13.6 miles) non-interrupted seafront walkway in the world.

After another sumptuous breakfast in the dining room, we packed up and headed south to check out two stops that came highly recommended by family and friends (thank you Jen, Leni, and Cleone), both in Glen Arbor.

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, a national park since 1970, covers a 35-mile-long stretch of Lake Michigan’s eastern coastline as well as two islands. It’s known for its diversity of plants and animals, miles of sand beach, and bluffs that tower 450 feet above Lake Michigan. Getting to the famous bluffs with their even more famous views below involves a three and a half mile round trip hike in the sand. Up one dune and down the backside. Up the next dune and down the backside. And repeat and repeat until you are awed by the view. Dan and I climb a third of the way to where we could see Lake Michigan in the distance and called it a morning.

After the hike we visited Sleeping Bear Point Coast Guard Station Maritime Museum, a Life-Saving Service station in use until the 1940s. It is typical of the 60 stations that were once along the Great Lakes. The outdoor museum includes the home where the number one guy, the captain, and his family lived with the seven-man crew and a boat house where rescue equipment was stored. An enthusiastic guide walked us through the fine points of a) getting the surfboats to the water and b) the use of a Lyle gun, a line (rope) thrower powered by a short-barreled cannon.

So, how did the heavy, super sturdy surfboats get to the water’s edge? The crew pushed them on rails laid in a track on top of the sand as far as the track allowed and then horses, borrowed from locals, pulled them the rest of the way. And the Lyle gun? Once in place on the beach this gun shot a 19 pound steel projectile with a light line tied to it over the distressed ship. As the line fell across the ship, the crew could grab it and pull out heavier lines to rig a breeches buoy that could be pulled back and forth between the ship and shore. None of us knew anything about a breeches buoy, so she next explained that it was a life ring with a pair of canvas breeches (pants) sewn into it. The person being rescued would sit in the breeches buoy and be pulled to shore. Live and learn.

On our way out of the park we drove through tiny Glen Haven, a company town from 1865 to 1931 that is being revived, repaired, and rebuilt. Originally a dock for Glen Arbor, the site soon became a fuel supply point for ships traveling up and down the lake. Enterprising folks saw profits in adding a lumber business, an inn, a general store, and a blacksmith shop. Slowly a company town was born and is now being reborn.

Our reward for all that climbing and learning was as good a fish (lake perch) and chips lunch as we’ve ever had. Dan and I each got SIX filets lightly dusted in cornmeal and fried to perfection. After complaining about the easily-enough-for-two portion of fish we both devoured it all. Then it was time to shop. First for a Hemingway book in honor of the trip to Michigan, then a new sweater in honor of it catching my eye, and finally everything we could dream of with even a hint of cherry. Liqueurs, soft drinks, dried fruit, chocolate covered fruit, scones, jams, jellies, sauces, and more are available at Cherry Republic. Add a tasting room, restaurant, and a pit spitting alley and you have yourself a one-stop enterprise honoring the fact that Michigan’s Northwest Lower Peninsula is the largest producer of tart cherries in the country.

We knew we’d have a short night, so we headed the two and a half hour drive north back to Pellston, home of the cute airport. We dropped our bags at the hotel, returned the car, had a drink at the airport bar, and walked the quarter mile back to the hotel.

If all goes according to plan we’ll get up at 4:00, transfer a quarter of a mile to the airport at 5:15, take off at 6:30, land in Detroit at 7:30, layover for seven hours, and take off for home at 2:30. With good luck we should walk in the door by 5:00.

Bottom line: Michigan did not disappoint. We now see what all the fuss is about.

PS: Thank you Deb and Tom.

Monday
To get back to the mainland we did the reverse of arriving being careful to get ourselves to the right dock at the right time and insuring our bags did the same. We spent our three hours of free time this morning meandering the impeccably tidy downtown streets; grabbing breakfast at Chuck Wagon, a hot tip from a delivery man; shopping Doud’s Market, the oldest grocery store in the country; and locating the Indian Dormitory and mini-Statue of Liberty (thank you Boy Scouts of America). The streets were busy with horse-drawn wagons delivering all sorts of goods before the arrival of the first ferry of the day.

As soon as our luggage was offloaded in Mackinaw City we found the car and headed two and a half hours south to Traverse City and then cut north 12 miles to our destination, Chateau Chantal, a B&B on a working vineyard on the narrow Old Mission Peninsula. Situated on a bluff overlooking vines as far as the eye can see with Lake Michigan in the distance, it made quite an impression. We were lucky there was an accommodation available, unusual this time of year. We have a beautifully appointed two-room suite with a tiny patio steps away from one of the many postcard views of the scenery below.

Dan and I graduated high school with Fran who, along with her husband, Jim, not only farms grapes, apples, and cherries, but is part owner of the winery. With 48 hours notice that we were going to be in their neck of the woods they invited us to dinner. We had a grand time talking old times, catching up, hearing about their decision to trade corporate America for wine, seeing Jim’s stained glass and Fran’s stunning one-of-a-kind garments and quilts, and hearing about their decision to spend a large part of each winter on Molokai doing mission work. Jim made cherry pie from their cherries and Fran cooked pork in her homemade cherry barbecue sauce. Delicious. After totally overstaying our welcome, we headed back to our gorgeous accommodations and fell into bed.

Today
In order to luxuriate in our fine surroundings we decided to have a down day of sorts. Breakfast pizza, tossed greens, fresh fruit, pastries, and brown sugar bacon in the sunny dining room got the day started off on a high note. From there we explored the northern part of the peninsula, all six miles of it. We almost had the road and the few sites to ourselves. We enjoyed seeing a small log home built in 1856, a lighthouse at the tip of the peninsula, a general store that looked about as old as the log house, a mission church, and a mission house. This took us to noon, so we shared a couple of cookies and the local market’s special of the day: a double bacon cheeseburger and chips. Naps followed, then a complimentary wine tasting, reading in the sun, and snacks for dinner. We got a giggle out of the notion that we dined on Oreos, salt and vinegar chips, ice water, and jelly beans in our beautiful room. I guess it’s true: you can take the kids out of the country but you can’t take the country our of the kids.

… A Sidebar of Note …

Since the original plan was to be across the Mackinac Bridge
enjoying the Upper Peninsula these last two days, I thought it might be fun to mention a couple of personal things about the other half of the state.

Deb and Tom’s origin story started in Marquette!
They met and married there. The rest is history.

Although Dan and I are new to Michigan we have actually been to the Upper Peninsula,
two times as a matter of fact.
Dan and Deb’s dad retired from the Air Force at K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base in Marquette,
and we came for his retirement ceremony in 1975.
When Dan deployed to Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm in 1990
Matt, Murphy, and I returned to K.I. Sawyer to spend the Christmas holiday with Cyd
where she was living with her Air Force husband and three super cool kids.