Beginning
The mind wanders. Maybe that's the good news. Yet it makes it hard to get anything done after returning from a weekend up north. It's even hard to write an account of a weekend up north, enjoying a brief respite from home and work and letting the mind wander.
We decided at the last minute not to take the bikes and the newly tuned-up truck because it was raining, so we took Gven's Honda instead, making it easier to throw things in the trunk and back seat, rather than having to cover everything with plastic tarps. About halfway there it stopped raining, and all we saw for three days was a big, impressionistic, partly cloudy sky. Next time I'll reconsider second-guessing my initial doubts about questioning Plan A, and I'll take the truck. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Once on the road, we settled into conversation about some of the paths that got us here, an easy thing to do while taking a trip down memory lane where you've never been before. Driving up highways 23 and 75 brought to mind people and places from my youth in Garden City, Birmingham, Ann Arbor and environs, which started us talking about junior high and high school, our common experience of making new friends, adjusting to a new school every two or three years, and finding a niche for a while among kids who grew up together. I guess we did alright.
By late afternoon we arrived at Fairfield North and opted to set up camp first thing. Gven's knack for campsite feng-shui located a nice level site, and the tent practically put itself up. Having established our base, we used the remaining couple of hours of daylight to take a quick tour: our own wooded half-acre, a nearby lake with public access, and the general lay of the land.
With our heads brimming with unlikely scenarios about what we could or would or should do with this place, we settled in to munch on cheese and crackers, open a bottle of wine, start a fire, and heat up some leftovers from home. Add a handful of dark chocolate almonds, a sky full of stars, and there were no complaints. Whatever the future does or does not hold, this is not bad.
Middle
We must have been pretty tired, because we both slept late. The plan was to get breakfast at the restaurant down the road at the golf course, but the car - new battery and all - wouldn't start. We consulted the campground director, who recommended a tow truck, but the tow guy in Gaylord said all the repair shops were closed by noon on Saturday. "You're up north now."
Sure enough, when I started calling mechanics, they were all closed. The man at Alpine Transmission, however, answered the phone and said his son lived near the campground and might be able to help. Two phone calls later, Derek showed up with a portable scanner and a new distributor. He surmised that the old one had developed a hairline crack that broke the circuit, which explained the spark we saw on the outside of the distributor cap. For a grand total of $95, parts and labor, he took time out of his Saturday afternoon to solve our problem when he could have been at home watching the football game or going grocery shopping with his wife.
With the day half-gone but having dodged a bullet, we went to the golf course restaurant for coffee, a bowl of soup, and a plate of excellent french fries. The Michigan-Miami game was on, and I was wearing my Michigan cap, so I guess we didn't stick out too much among the loud golf crowd. As the caffeine took effect, we sketched out a spy novel set during World War II in Switzerland, where the French Resistance crosses into Austria on skis, passing vital design information through their double-agent, an economist named Rose Sharply, who infiltrates the Volkswagen factory in Munich. We'll call our best-seller The Alpine Transmission.
Thus energized and seeing the cup half-full, we headed out to the lake for another look. Gven brought a book and sat on the bench. There was a long-necked bird on the raft near the little beach, and it took off flying low across the lake as soon as I waded in. It wasn't a hot day, but the water felt good, and just getting in it was worth the seven-hour drive. I stood there waist-deep for a while and stretched like the legendary Fu bird before swimming out to the floating plastic raft, then sat there for awhile on the quiet lake before swimming back to the beach to dry off, totally invigorated. We drove back to the campground, cooked supper, finished the Pinot Noir with our pasta and pesto, and stared at the fire until the wood was gone.
End
This time we got up early and immediately took down the tent, grabbed a quick shower, and packed up everything. We found our way into Mancelona, where we spotted Bo-Jack's cafe, just the place for a large coffee to-go and a donut. It took about an hour to get to Traverse City, and if I hadn't missed the turn-off to route 37, we would have gotten to church on time.
My friend Chip, an alumnus of the Wednesday night men's group, is the minister at the UU Congregation of Grand Traverse, so while we were in the neighborhood, Gven and I decided to visit his church. It was Ingathering Sunday, the first service of the church year, which turned out to be a good time to learn about the church's history as well to see Chip in action.
It was a very upbeat, thoughtful service, and afterward we talked with lots of interesting people. I don't think I've every been to a church with its own orchestra. Someone suggested that we see more of the Old Mission Peninsula, so that's how we spent the first part of the afternoon, driving out to the lighthouse and back, past cherry and peach orchards, vineyards, and views of both the eastern and western lobes of Grand Traverse Bay.
By the time we got back to town, we were pretty impressed with the whole area, but the city was just as cool - touristy but in a good way. It helped that the weather was perfect. We walked around a little and stopped for lunch at the Serenity Tea Bar. Dessert was gelato from American Spoon. We walked down to the beach for a quick workout, then headed home.
The mind wanders. Maybe that's the good news. Yet it makes it hard to get anything done after returning from a weekend up north. It's even hard to write an account of a weekend up north, enjoying a brief respite from home and work and letting the mind wander.
We decided at the last minute not to take the bikes and the newly tuned-up truck because it was raining, so we took Gven's Honda instead, making it easier to throw things in the trunk and back seat, rather than having to cover everything with plastic tarps. About halfway there it stopped raining, and all we saw for three days was a big, impressionistic, partly cloudy sky. Next time I'll reconsider second-guessing my initial doubts about questioning Plan A, and I'll take the truck. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Once on the road, we settled into conversation about some of the paths that got us here, an easy thing to do while taking a trip down memory lane where you've never been before. Driving up highways 23 and 75 brought to mind people and places from my youth in Garden City, Birmingham, Ann Arbor and environs, which started us talking about junior high and high school, our common experience of making new friends, adjusting to a new school every two or three years, and finding a niche for a while among kids who grew up together. I guess we did alright.
By late afternoon we arrived at Fairfield North and opted to set up camp first thing. Gven's knack for campsite feng-shui located a nice level site, and the tent practically put itself up. Having established our base, we used the remaining couple of hours of daylight to take a quick tour: our own wooded half-acre, a nearby lake with public access, and the general lay of the land.
With our heads brimming with unlikely scenarios about what we could or would or should do with this place, we settled in to munch on cheese and crackers, open a bottle of wine, start a fire, and heat up some leftovers from home. Add a handful of dark chocolate almonds, a sky full of stars, and there were no complaints. Whatever the future does or does not hold, this is not bad.
Middle
We must have been pretty tired, because we both slept late. The plan was to get breakfast at the restaurant down the road at the golf course, but the car - new battery and all - wouldn't start. We consulted the campground director, who recommended a tow truck, but the tow guy in Gaylord said all the repair shops were closed by noon on Saturday. "You're up north now."
Sure enough, when I started calling mechanics, they were all closed. The man at Alpine Transmission, however, answered the phone and said his son lived near the campground and might be able to help. Two phone calls later, Derek showed up with a portable scanner and a new distributor. He surmised that the old one had developed a hairline crack that broke the circuit, which explained the spark we saw on the outside of the distributor cap. For a grand total of $95, parts and labor, he took time out of his Saturday afternoon to solve our problem when he could have been at home watching the football game or going grocery shopping with his wife.
With the day half-gone but having dodged a bullet, we went to the golf course restaurant for coffee, a bowl of soup, and a plate of excellent french fries. The Michigan-Miami game was on, and I was wearing my Michigan cap, so I guess we didn't stick out too much among the loud golf crowd. As the caffeine took effect, we sketched out a spy novel set during World War II in Switzerland, where the French Resistance crosses into Austria on skis, passing vital design information through their double-agent, an economist named Rose Sharply, who infiltrates the Volkswagen factory in Munich. We'll call our best-seller The Alpine Transmission.
Thus energized and seeing the cup half-full, we headed out to the lake for another look. Gven brought a book and sat on the bench. There was a long-necked bird on the raft near the little beach, and it took off flying low across the lake as soon as I waded in. It wasn't a hot day, but the water felt good, and just getting in it was worth the seven-hour drive. I stood there waist-deep for a while and stretched like the legendary Fu bird before swimming out to the floating plastic raft, then sat there for awhile on the quiet lake before swimming back to the beach to dry off, totally invigorated. We drove back to the campground, cooked supper, finished the Pinot Noir with our pasta and pesto, and stared at the fire until the wood was gone.
End
This time we got up early and immediately took down the tent, grabbed a quick shower, and packed up everything. We found our way into Mancelona, where we spotted Bo-Jack's cafe, just the place for a large coffee to-go and a donut. It took about an hour to get to Traverse City, and if I hadn't missed the turn-off to route 37, we would have gotten to church on time.
My friend Chip, an alumnus of the Wednesday night men's group, is the minister at the UU Congregation of Grand Traverse, so while we were in the neighborhood, Gven and I decided to visit his church. It was Ingathering Sunday, the first service of the church year, which turned out to be a good time to learn about the church's history as well to see Chip in action.
It was a very upbeat, thoughtful service, and afterward we talked with lots of interesting people. I don't think I've every been to a church with its own orchestra. Someone suggested that we see more of the Old Mission Peninsula, so that's how we spent the first part of the afternoon, driving out to the lighthouse and back, past cherry and peach orchards, vineyards, and views of both the eastern and western lobes of Grand Traverse Bay.
By the time we got back to town, we were pretty impressed with the whole area, but the city was just as cool - touristy but in a good way. It helped that the weather was perfect. We walked around a little and stopped for lunch at the Serenity Tea Bar. Dessert was gelato from American Spoon. We walked down to the beach for a quick workout, then headed home.
This trip gave us a lot of information to process, and the drive home gave us a chance to start. It was fun to get outside our heads for a couple of days, but you know what? Getting home made the same old sameness just more familiar. Re-entry wasn't too bad initially, but the mind keeps going back up north.
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