The Great Lakes.

My favorite time of year is fall. Spring's showers and May's flowers are a very close second but nothing beats the fall foliage and their spectacular change in color. After leaving the vast expanse of nothing that is the east half of North Dakota, I made it to Minnesota. Oh yah. I knew I wanted to head north to Voyageurs National Park so to cut my drive in half I couch surfed in Bemidji. Other than claiming to be the first city on the Mississippi, not much is in Bemidji except for Bemidji State University and Jake and Haley, the super sweet couple that took me in for the evening. Their tiny lakeside cottage complete with matching tiny dog was enough to make me super jealous, tiny houses are the best, but not large enough for us all to sleep inside. They offered me their kitchen, shower, a free climb or two on the rock wall they work at and a lakeside place to pitch my tent which was more than enough. That's what couch surfing is after all; a comfortable place to sleep in the form of whatever the host has to offer. I slept like a baby to the soft sounds of the lake and in the morning we swapped stories over their delicious tea before I continued driving to Voyageurs National Park. I imagine the park isn't visited too often since it's so far north and you don't really see too much without being on the water. An added expense and a bleak, rainy day made me think twice about that venture. I chose to do the one or two easy hikes they had to offer, catching glimpses of the chain of lakes through the trees, and admiring instead the smaller details of the park. During the winter you can actually see the Northern Lights from here but not while I was there, I double checked. Tackling one of the short hikes, I stepped lightly and found small mushrooms and tiny green caterpillars. One mushroom in particular was orange and the size of a softball with a woven pattern on its underside and teensy white mushrooms all around its base. I must have taken ten pictures of that one mushroom alone.

Eager to see what small towns and treasures awaited me on my drive to Lake Superior's North Shore, I kept trucking. A delicious bowl of soup from a mom & pop cafe in Tower, a town twenty five miles from everything, as I was told by the chef, kept me going. I stopped in Ely and explored the fun strip of shops and one or two bars all the while trying to find a postcard to send to a friend. The jump off point to the Boundary Waters has two stores outfitted with Ely memorabilia in its five block main street and a penny machine to boot, but shockingly no postcards. I shrugged it off and kept going to my campsite for the evening and set up my car to sleep in. The only downside about being up north this time of year is the constant and eventual presence of rain. A went tent is no fun at all. I laid in my car, one seat folded down, all my stuff piled to the other side, sleeping pad set up like a cozy bed, and watched the sky as it illuminated the forest looming overhead with its lightning.

Highway 61, the same highway Bob Dylan sang about, is what I took to get to Duluth. Lake Superior, the largest lake in North America and one of the largest fresh water lakes in the world, was to my east and as the drive progressed the rain let up and pockets of sunshine shone through far off in the distance putting a huge smile on my face at the hopes of a clear day later or even better, the next day. The rainy drive detoured me to an antique store with the best selection of old maps I had seen in a while and a first floor completely consumed in paperback books from all genres. Knick knacks for a quarter stuck out of literally every empty space, stuff that in no way I needed but I definitely wanted. I must have spent an hour in there trying to find all seventeen of the National Geographic maps from the 1980s set before settling and coming up short at fifteen.

Duluth is lined by Lake Superior with a very pretty lakefront and the small city, I was pleasantly surprised to find, has a substantial art presence. Train tracks divide the buildings and city street from the trees and shoreline and stairs cut in here and there to take you back up to main street once you're down on the lake. Adeline, Allen, and their awesome daughter Gala live up the hill just outside of downtown. Their old home outfitted with wood trim, framed photos, vinyls and collectibles everywhere felt homey and not at all overwhelming. Totally my style. The house is a little Cinderella-esque with Mr. Fleas, the squirrel that has grown rather attached to Adeline, hovering out back and the same crows that seem to reappear a few times a day. Their view of the city up there is amazing and peering down the side street I could see the bridge lit up at night, the small city lights scattered about, and in the morning the prettiest array of pastel streaks from the sunrise peaked over the rooftops out their front bay window. Always decked out in a colorful dress, Adeline's personality was just as fun and beautiful as her color choices and I knew immediately I should have requested a second night to stay. Luckily for me, that's exactly what happened and after spending a "beach day" swimming in Lake Superior, Justin, their roommate, showed me the Faering he's been working on with a few other people. The wooden planks overlap to form the hull of what looked like an oversized and extra long rowboat and were currently being held together by clamps, the homemade tree frame supporting it in the center of the not nearly large enough shop. A community project of sorts, it has been added to by anyone and everyone that wants to help. A barn loom sat at the shop entrance mid sew and I couldn't help but play with the already woven shag blanket, a mixture of whatever colors were left over at the time that happened to be a perfect fall palette. I explored the ship a little more closely only to discover the roves and rivets made out of pre-1982 copper pennies instead of your everyday ones bought at the nearest Home Depot. One day he'll sail it up to Canada and I can't wait to see pictures. I also can't wait to come back and visit and make my very own banjo, a deal Justin and I made right before I left. Always the host, when the idea of an impromptu ten person dinner party came up, Adeline was all for it. When two more showed up at the last minute we simply pulled up a chair since there was more than enough to go around. I realized then that's just the kind of people they are, welcoming and thoughtful. We all laughed and reminisced over delicious homemade dumpling soup that I wished there was a never ending pot of before walking into town to see a mural unveiling. Before I left the next morning, Justin offered to be my tour guide and took me downtown to the little residential island, Park Point, on the other side of the Aerial Lift Bridge. The bridge is a Duluth landmark and it's not hard to see why. The metal frame faded into the foggy sky and I stood there wowed watching the platform raise as one piece and lift straight up unlike your normal drawbridge, a sight I had never seen before.

This is where I detoured to Minneapolis to see Prince, so I'll let you go back one story and read that for yourself. I will say, however, that the few hours I spent in the city were awesome. It seemed like the whole city was out tailgating for the Vikings in any empty parking lot they could find and when I got down to the waterfront I discovered the ruins of the old Stone Arch Bridge. The stone shambles lie directly beneath the brand new city, a stark contrast from old to new and are protected by the National Park Service. Across St. Anthony Falls and one of the many dams along the Mississippi, was a small area covered in cobble stone, big trees, and architecturally interesting old buildings. Trying to see whatever I could in a short amount of time, I wandered to the sculpture park boasting a massive blue rooster and an even larger cherry on a spoon surrounded by Geese like little guard birds warning anyone to try and get closer. Geese are mean, don't get closer. As luck would have it I also found a replica of Robert Indiana's LOVE statue. It's brown exterior was nowhere near as wonderful as the vibrant red one in Philly; maybe I'm just bias.

The North Coast of Wisconsin, like Michigan's Upper Peninsula, was a simply beautiful drive. It rained on and off, honestly just assume until my next post that it was raining half the time because it was. The scenic route along Lake Superior alternated between small one street towns, literally, turnouts here and there towards the lake, and big color changing trees dropping their leaves as I rode through them. One thing about the Northeast that it seems everyone I meet can agree on, are the trees in the fall. They change from green to deep red and bright yellow, never missing a shade in between, like something out of a kids coloring book. People don't believe me when I tell them this and those that have seen it adamantly back up my story. So when I found what looked like rainbow ferns along the side of the road in Wisconsin, I had to stop and admire them. That was something I haven't seen in the Northeast; who knows, maybe I just wasn't looking hard enough. Either way, wow!

More small unique lakeside towns were my sights until the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, or the U.P. as the "Yoopers" call it, a common term for denizens of the peninsula. I slowly drove past their adorable pizza shops, city parks, and bookstores which I always go in without fail and never seem to disappoint. I stopped for a moment in Marquette to try what is thought of as the best pastie in the U.P., a large empanada doughy pocket filled with meat and veggies, and pronounced more like the name Patsy than the pasties that you stick onto something. It was good, although not my favorite thing I've had on this trip. A solid night of rest and an early morning finally brought me through the town of Christmas and into Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, one of three I would see before I made it to where I am now, Milwaukee. One of the places on my must-see list, the northern hardwood forest decorating the shore of Lake Superior is one of a kind. The boardwalk stroll through the Sand Point Marsh, a must do, was quirky and overgrown with its switchbacks and wonky boardwalk design while the grass blades, taller than me, harshly swayed back and forth with each new gust of wind. Nearly half the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is wetland and while that may seem like a lot, its already lost about 70% of its original wetlands. This fact alone reminded me a lot of the Everglades in Florida and how over the years people have been been more harmful than helpful. Bookended by waterfalls, the rest of Pictured Rocks is a mosaic of colors in the form of rocks and agates completely covering the shore in many different textures and shapes. The hike to Au Sable Light Station was a perfect example of this. The easy stroll through a tunnel of trees bumps right up against the water, about ten feet above it actually, and the farther you walk the more the lighthouse emerges at the other end of the tunnel. The rough waves pummeled the beach in the dreary weather and somewhere down there, along the edge of those waves, were three shipwrecks I was determined to find. Since there aren't any tides it didn't matter when I went, however, the rough weather was making it difficult. Having no idea what capacity they were still in but very aware of where they were I decided to give it a go. The educational sign at the top of the detour told me all about the ten shipwrecks known to them along this coast and a basic map showed where the three could be found. At the bottom of the stairs I realized this may not be possible and for good reason. The waves went right up to where I was meant to be walking and the wall of dunes were not nearly sturdy enough for me to climb along. I went with Plan B and decided to go down the stairs from the other side by the lighthouse. I kept my balance steady as I walked along the smooth, marble painted rocks, holding onto branches sticking out when necessary and didn't make it very far. I quickly realized how dumb this was, climbing practically in Lake Superior that undoubtedly would have a red warning flag flying high if life guards were a thing at Pictured Rocks. I saw the shipwrecks in the distance, small and only remnants of what was the ship's base and was a little disappointed. The let down never out weighed the beauty of the rest of the National Lakeshore though, not even close.

I decided to call it a day and I headed back to Bertha, satisfied with all that I had seen that day and ready for whatever "the other Michigan" had to offer me next.

- G.

The Photo:
Rainbow fern on the side of the road.
Wisconsin's North Shore, Lake Superior.
9/26/17.