“Let’s go away for a long weekend to celebrate anniversary No. 41,” I said.
“Sure,” she said. “Where to?”
“How about the U.P.?”
Nothing says romance quite like a seven-hour drive to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, eh? Not Europe. Not Hawaii. Not New Zealand. But Michigan, for which I’ve had a soft spot since its drinking age was a way-too-convenient 18 when I was in high school. We opted not for glamour this time, and I must say our trip was great!
Neither of us had ventured that far north since we were kids, so we weren’t too sure what to expect. I vaguely remember crossing the Mackinac Bridge while fogging the back window of our family Caprice or Impala or Malibu or whatever Chevy dad was driving those days. I recall watching a barge go under what at that time was the largest bridge I had ever seen.
This time, in early November of 2021, I was behind the wheel. We beat our way over to M-131 at Three Rivers and turned north. Anything beyond Grand Rapids would be new territory to us as adults. We were pleasantly surprised, to say the least.
We took a few detours to get glimpses of Traverse City, Petoskey and Harbor Springs — places we’ve heard a lot about and definitely cannot afford. And then we got to the bridge. “Mighty Mac” was equally impressive 50-plus years later and we soon found ourselves in the U.P., heading west along the very top of Lake Michigan as we zeroed in on Munising, about 40 minutes east of Marquette.
Endless pine trees, rolling hills, charming towns. Pure Michigan. Tim Allen nailed it in those commercials.
We passed countless diners advertising a concoction called “pasties” — a staple of the U.P., I hear — and a string of billboards about guns and cannabis. The Hiawatha National Forest surrounded us as we traversed some of the straightest roads we’d ever seen (one road covered 25 miles with zero curves), and we enjoyed the scenery while battling very little traffic. We had missed the peak of fall colors by a week or two, and that opened things up for two goofs from Indiana.
“Be sure to bring your winter gear!” we were told. “It gets cold up there.”
Sure enough, a storm had dumped about two feet of snow just outside of Munising two days before our arrival, and our first hikes through Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore required hats, gloves and boots. Tourist season was over, so many of the attractions that draw people north were closed. We didn’t mind, although we would have liked to kayak in Lake Superior to see the incredible rock formations from the water.
We ate at establishments named Froggy’s, The Bear Trap, Eh! Burger and The Dogpatch, all featuring fried “bar” food consumed by a steady string of folks wearing flannel shirts and baseball caps. We didn’t see a lot of Notre Dame or Cubs gear outside of the confines of my suitcase. Those Yoopers (yah hey) are loyal to their Wolverines, Spartans, Tigers, Red Wings and Packers. Not so much the Lions…
We spent an entire day in Marquette, home of Northern Michigan University, and were charmed immediately by its parks and downtown restaurants and shops. Sugarloaf Mountain and Presque Isle offer sensational views. Besides tourism, iron ore is the primary industry in these parts and towns like Negaunee and Ishpeming are home to generations of miners. Lots of calloused hands, weathered faces and pleasant people. We visited lighthouses, saw incredible waterfalls and captured lasting memories. The pace is slower in the U.P., and it was easy to fall into lockstep with the locals.
One of the reasons we chose the Upper Peninsula for our anniversary trek was the hope of seeing the Aurora Borealis (the Northern Lights to us land-locked Hoosiers). We even arose one crystal clear night at 2 a.m. and sat in a parking lot at the southern tip of Lake Superior until dawn in hopes of getting a light show from Mother Nature. Unfortunately, we struck out—looking—but were still rewarded with a host of shooting stars and a lovely sunrise.
We’re already planning a return trip to the U.P. Only next time we’ll go a few weeks earlier to experience even more. Pure Michigan indeed.