“By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water...”
The beginnings and endings of memorable seasons in my life have brought a deeper respect for intentional contemplation. As I drove through morning rush hour traffic in Nashville, Tennessee, it was tempting to turn around, go back to the apartment, and crawl into my bed and fall asleep again. I wrestled with the decision to go all the way through Kentucky. When I saw the Ohio River in Louisville I knew I had made the right decision. Without a doubt, I needed to go somewhere to be alone, and the week ahead on the top side of America would teach me lessons and reveal truths. I remember standing at the edge of Lake Huron for a long time early one morning, lost in deep thought, and I was glad for the moment. Hot tears rolled down my face and I sat alone. This experience and taking these images stirred up emotions that I’d either lost or were never there to begin with. Considering relationship commitments, career goals, and personal dreams certainly deserves deliberation.
I chose Mike Posner’s record “A Real Good Kid” as the soundtrack for my drive times. It’s a good record that drives home the sentiment of purpose, confusion, loss, pride, struggle, and moving forward.
The Upper Peninsula of Michigan had never been on my radar. I hadn’t studied the U.P. very well or ever known anyone from there. I didn’t know jack about the area or the lakes I would see. I still don’t know very much but I tried to absorb as much as I could. I left Nashville, TN early in the morning on August 20. I reached Louisville, KY where I crossed the mighty Ohio River… My favorite river. I drove into Indianapolis, IN, switching to I-69 which took me through Fort Wayne, IN and then to Lansing, MI. After I exited the Lansing area I knew the territory before me was completely new. I drove along US-127 as evening approached. I joined I-75 near the ghost town of Pere Cheney, MI.
Vintage motels were my nightly residence on this road trip. The first of these was in Mackinaw City, MI. I got comfortable in the room alone and sat down to write a letter to my girlfriend, Katie. I never turned on the television. I eventually turned off the light, got in bed, pulled up the covers and tried to sleep. A street light in the distance illuminated my room only slightly, just enough for my eyes to fixate on the ceiling fan above. It was swirling ‘round and ‘round in the very dimly lit room. I drifted off to sleep.
When I awoke in the morning I felt well rested yet somehow still very tired. My body ached. The air was cool in the room and it felt right to be getting busy with the day so early. I packed my journal and cameras away and closed the door behind me. The motel was located directly on Lake Huron and I walked down to the water’s edge. It was an overcast morning. A swing set, a few chairs and a picnic table were all that stood with me on the sandy beach. No one else was around. The lake was calm and almost placid. The temperature must have been in the low 60s. It was very quiet. I knelt down at the water’s edge, reached out and touched the cool, wet surface of the massive lake before me. I looked out across the expanse, unable to see the other side. I stayed there for a long time, lost in contemplation. Hot tears rolled down my face and I sat alone. It was simple, it was beautiful.
Click on the photos to enlarge.
I didn’t eat breakfast that morning. Instead, I drove into the center of Mackinaw City and caught the Star Line Ferry to Mackinac Island. I really had no idea what to expect of Mackinac Island as I boarded the ferry. I found my place on the upper deck and in the front. We pushed off and started out across the waters of Lake Huron near the Straits of Mackinac. The mainland was behind me and Mackinac Island before me. An old lighthouse was visible as well. One of the ferrymen came and sat with me out of no where. He asked about my camera, where I was from, why I was alone… We talked for 10 minutes or so. Somehow the conversation lead to spiritual things without my directing. It was good to talk with some one. I thanked him for the conversation when the boat landed at the dock.
After disembarking I found myself in a maze of people, bicycles and horses in a quaint historic setting. Suddenly my senses were heightened and my eyes started racing around the scenery. I was wide awake now, adjusting from the quiet whirring of the ferry engine and the lapping of water to the static bustle of a crowded street. It was nice though. I just hadn’t expected it. Mackinac Island, as it turns out, is one of the premier destinations in the Great Lakes. First settled by Europeans in the 1600s, it was previously home to the Odawa people. It quickly became a fur trading headquarters as well as Jesuit missionary causes. It was also the site of two battles during the War of 1812. Horses, bicycles and walking are the only means of transportation since cars are not allowed on the island. As a result, Mackinac Island has a very specific vibe and presence. It feels like you’ve stepped back in time in some ways. The island became a resort center in the late 1800s. Opulent resort lodges as well as simple frontier homes are scattered throughout the town. The architecture is diverse and contrasted from the Grand Hotel to the McGulpin House. There were cliffs along the fresh water beaches. Flowers and trees grew in abundance.
I almost forgot it was summer time in the cool air of Northern Michigan. Briefly, my heart stopped beating so hard and heavy. For a few moments I didn’t care that I have no idea where my life is going these days. I can’t run away from myself, especially when I go far away and go alone. Then, in those moments, I am truly all alone. And then, everything flows back into my mind, slowly and steadily, like the water flows in and out of the locks at Sault-Sainte-Marie. How can you ever hold back so much water to begin with? I knew I could never hold back my emotions or direct the course of my life. Everything is as it should be. I must experience it all.
I wish I could have stayed longer on Mackinac Island, but I boarded the ferry to return to the mainland. I had a fancy lunch at KFC in downtown Mackinaw City. After a phone call, I started out across the Mackinac Bridge, a massive suspension bridge and causeway crossing the Straits of Mackinac which connect Lake Michigan-Huron.
The Upper Peninsula is remote and densely forested. In fact, I nearly ran out of fuel. I pulled into a gas station in Sault-Sainte-Marie, Michigan with 1 mile left in my tank according to my car’s computer.
Sault-Sainte-Marie is pronounced “Soo” or “Sue” like my mother’s name. I’d gone most of my life having mispronounced the name until this trip. It’s at the very tip of Michigan at the northern terminus of I-75. Canada is just across the St. Marys River. The same interstate also passes through my hometown of Tifton, GA. It was a little odd being on the same highway but so far from home. I-75 in the state of GA is very crowded, especially in Atlanta. I hardly saw a soul while driving up seventy-five in the U.P.
After having a look at the town from the top of the Tower of History I ventured to The Soo Locks to watch the big boats roll in and out. I sat there most of the late afternoon and early evening watching ships enter the locks and exit the locks. Lake Superior is higher in elevation than Lake Huron by about 26 feet. Vessels must enter the system of locks and let the water level either rise or fall according to which direction they were going. A series of shallow, rocky rapids prohibits boats from passing between the lakes. Before the locks were built some boats were carried overland to go between the two lakes.
I watched the CSL St-Laurent and the MV Saginaw pass through the Soo Locks. It was impressive and interesting to watch such an important engineering and navigational process work.
The MC Saginaw was closest to the observation deck when it entered the locks. You could almost reach out and touch the 640 foot long ship. Hard looking bearded, burly men covered in black soot moved about the deck quickly, attending to the moorings and waiting for the water level to drop. The ship was coming from Lake Superior and entering Lake Huron. Several onlookers yelled out questions to the men: “What kind of fuel does the ship use?” one man asked. Another asked, “How many crew members are there? Where are you from?” The men answered that the Saginaw runs off of a bio-diesel fuel mixture. It has a crew of 21 men, most of whom are Canadian. A deep and sombre sounding fog horn blew right before the Saginaw made its way through the open side of the lock and into Lake Huron. It was a sight to see.
I drove a little over an hour westward from Sault-Sainte-Marie to the tiny town of Newberry, Michigan. The road was long and mostly straight. I saw very few cars or houses along the way. I did run across a few interesting abandoned buildings, though. The sun went down and I was still driving. Finally, I pulled into the parking lot of another vintage motel to spend the night alone again. After checking in, I sat down at the desk in my room and wrote another letter before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up early the following morning and got on the road towards Munising, Michigan. Munising is beautifully situated old logging town on a quiet bay of Lake Superior.
It was here that I tried my first “pasty” for lunch. I had the foresight that I would probably mispronounce the name so I asked exactly what they were. It’s pronounced pass-tee. The tiny bakery-like shop owner explained to me that a pasty originally derived from a Cornish dish. She went on to explain that they were important food for miners in the iron ore mines of the U.P. Miners could hold the crust of the pasty without ingesting toxic residue from the minerals they mined. A pasty is shaped similarly to a samosa but tastes more like a pot pie. I ordered a traditional version of the dish that consisted of beef and vegetables surrounded by a delicious pie crust.
After lunch, I boarded a boat to have a closer look at The Pictured Rocks. Canada was 165 miles due north of Munising. The captain warned us that the lake was choppy that day with waves between 3-6 feet. He said, “If you’re not okay with being on a carnival ride for 3 hours then now is your chance to get off.” Several people gathered their belongings and went back to the dock. I was a little apprehensive myself but I was determined to see the Pictured Rocks. As it turned out, the lake had calmed down some by the time our boat reached open water. I had never seen a body of fresh water with such large waves, though. The Pictured Rocks National Shoreline was unique and beautiful. I saw interesting landforms such as rock arches, spires, and white cliffs. The cliffs were impressive and showed colorful remnants of mineral deposits. It looked like someone had poured paint on the rocky faces. Even the clouds in the sky above looked more like those in a painting than real life. The sun was beating down but it was cool outside. The boat swayed back and forth with the high waves. My eyes were everywhere, capturing my surroundings via my camera.
“By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water...”
I remember my dad reading that to me when I was a child. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote “The Song of Hiawatha” and chose The Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior as the setting for the story. I made the long drive to the Upper Peninsula alone to explore and reflect. I got a little sun burnt that afternoon and that’s my own fault. I’m glad I got to see this incredible area of the U.P. I can’t really describe with words how the experience made me feel so I will let the photographs speak for themselves.
Eventually I had to leave Munising. I drove slowly and took in the evening sunset along the water. I stopped at a pretty sandy beach at the mouth of the Au Train River. I only stayed for a little while but the moment stands out in my mind. I was alone on this freshwater beach that felt like the ocean.
I visited Marquette, Michigan briefly and walked around downtown. Marquette is the largest town in the U.P. with around 21,000 people. Their harbor has a giant rusted out iron ore dock that stands out from the surrounding horizon.
I drove from Marquette across the U.P. southward and down the shore of Lake Michigan before crossing in to the state of Wisconsin. “Hello Wisconsin!” 🔊
That night of my trip, I stayed in Green Bay, WI. I wrote another letter before bed in another lonely motel room. I woke up the next day and decided I should take advantage of the fact that my motel was half a mile from Lambeau Field, home of the Green Bay Packers. I toured the historic NFL stadium. Definitely something I’d never considered doing, but was well worth the time.
I eventually continued my trek southward through the cities of Appleton, Oshkosh, and Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. I walked around downtown Fond du Lac because Jason Isbell mentions it in his song entitled “Live Oak”. I played the song as a I drove my car around the streets. I visited the shoreline of Lake Winnebago as well before leaving the town. I passed through Milwaukee and Chicago and on to Indianapolis and Louisville again. I got back to Nashville, TN late at night, or morning. I slept long and hard. The next day I went to my niece's birthday. Gaby turned 1 year old on August 25, 2019. She’s so precious.
I’m sitting in my studio on this November day as I finish this blog. I have gone on yet another trip (to West Virginia) since taking this one. I’m learning to take deeper breaths, to simply feel stuff again, and to be okay with my past. I have had to accept the many facets of my experiences, both negative and positive, in order to posture myself to go into the future as a better man. When I die, I want to die empty. No shoulda-coulda-wouldas, no unspent effort, no unused talent, and no love held back. I want to be poured out.
-Daniel C. Shippey