59. SAUGATUCK

Saugatuck, Michigan

7/26/2010

Saugatuck was started as a sort of artist-haven and about a third of Schultz’s entry focuses on the Oxbow School of Art – a hundred-year old summer satellite of the Art Institute of Chicago.

We were surprised that there was no signage for the school anywhere. In fact, the school lies at the end of a very narrow road, far off the beaten path. If I hadn’t done my homework in advance we never would have found it. It doesn’t have a real address and cars can’t make it all the way to the school. We parked the car as close as we could and then hiked up a small, heavily wooded hill. At this point, I was still uncertain if we were in the right place, since we hadn’t seen any indication of any school. Just when I was starting to think it might be a good idea to turn around we entered into a clearing where a series of small buildings made up the campus. A wooden sign declared this indeed to be the Oxbow School of Art. A few dozen people were scattered over the clearing eating lunch, sitting on benches, in circles on the grass and over on a small pier. Many of them stared at us quizzically. It seemed as though we had fallen upon some strange, undiscovered tribe in the wilderness. It was clear we were invaders and we felt guilty. A woman approached us, and although she was very friendly she seemed confused when we explained what we were doing there. It was obvious that it was unusual for people to erupt from the woods “just to see the place.” The woman brought us to another lady in one of the buildings (presumably someone in charge) who seemed just as confused by our presence – although amused. She said we were free to walk along the lakeshore if we wished, but not to disturb the classes. We went back outside and someone was setting up easels. Lunch was ending and work was about to recommence. Sheepishly, we disappeared into the wilderness from whence we came.

Well, that was awkward. Thanks, Patricia. Thanks a lot.

All was not lost at Saugatuck because we spent most of the rest of the day at Oval Beach. MTV calls Oval Beach one of the best five beaches in the USA, so since we’ve been there that pretty makes us the hippest people in alive.

I don’t think most people think connect “Lake Michigan” and “tropical paradise” but that is pretty much what you get here. We couldn’t drag Daniel away from playing in the sand and swimming with Mommy.

Even Philip worked on his tan.

Thus ended our successful conquest of Lower Michigan. It took us six hours to drive home and as we moved further south and east it was very obvious to see how much the environment transitioned away from the gorgeous diversity of western Michigan. What a beautiful state.

58. FREDERICK MEIJER GARDENS

Grand Rapids, Michigan

7/26/2010

Since we spent way longer on the Old Mission Peninsula than we had thought we would the almost four hour drive to Grand Rapids that night seemed very daunting. We were back to using the GPS and it sent us on some very indirect, unpaved country roads. They all had names based upon the lengths of the roads – 8 Mile Road, 29 ½ Mile Road, etc. Who settled this place? Robots?

We eventually made it to the Grand Rapids Best Western. Again, a very nice hotel we got very cheaply using Priceline’s Name-Your-Own-Price feature. Thanks, William Shatner.

In the morning we took the short drive to the Frederick Meijer Gardens. Apparently, the founder of the Meijer grocery chain was really into collecting modern art. Now his collection is peppered around a hundred-odd acres of botanical gardens.

I thought this was a bit pricey for what it was - $12 a person. When I showed the ticket lady my little AAA keychain card she insisted on seeing my actual full-sized wallet card. This is for a 50 cent discount, lady. Speaking of which, I know I used to praise these AAA discounts, but more often than not I’ve noticed these “50 cents off!” deals. In this case, that’s barely 4%. Well, whoop-dee-doo!

Anyway, onto the gardens. The plant life was very pretty, but we weren’t too in love with the art. I know all art is subjective, and modern art doubly so. At one point on our walk I saw a large, slanted cube on display. A couple of yards away was another black cube. The same artist? I wondered. Nope. This cube had a little sign next to it explaining that the statue was being renovated. I was staring at a pedestal. I couldn’t tell the difference. Am I a philistine or what?

The centerpiece of the collection is The American Horse, based on sketches by Leonardo. In which case shouldn’t it have been called The Venetian Horse? Never mind.

There was also a very large children’s garden. Daniel had a lot of fun playing with a room-sized model of the Great Lakes, with little boats and mini-waterfalls to splash in.

Daniel made a friend and made me proud. A little one-year old boy gibber-jabbered to him, and Daniel gibber-jabbered back. Despite being baby talk it seemed like a real conversation. They splashed around for a little bit and then Daniel picked up a toy sailboat and gave it to his new friend to play with. What a cool kid, huh?

57. TRAVERSE CITY & GRAND TRAVERSE BAY

Traverse City, Michigan

7/25/2010

We traveled back down M-22 and re-entered Traverse City for a proper exploration.

Our first stop was Schultz-authorized Sleder’s Tavern for dinner. The food was good, but we received the worst service of our entire lives. We stood in the entrance, babes in arms, while several staff members passed by us, looked at us, and ignored us. After five minutes a waitress said, “She’ll be right there.” Who’s she? “She” showed up five minutes later and brought us to a table. I asked for a high chair. She said she’d go get one, disappeared into the night and we never saw her again. Five minutes later a male waiter came and asked for our drink orders. I asked for a high chair again. The man disappeared. Several minutes later he returned with our drinks and took our food order. (It is at this point I need to mention the details of the kid’s meal we ordered for Daniel – it promised pieces of cod [apparently not to be confused with cod pieces], fries, a drink, and an “ice cream treat.”) Still no high chair, by the way. I asked about the high chair again and he said, “I was going to get it.” Off he went. Five minutes later the chair arrived. After a long while our food did too. No drink for Daniel, though. I asked about it and the man said again, “I was going to get it.” Daniel’s drink arrived after awhile again. By now, Laura had almost finished her lemonade. The waiter pointed at it and said, “What is that?” “Lemonade,” my wife replied. “Oh,” said the waiter, scribbled something down and walked away. Apparently he missed the lecture on “Ask the lady with the empty glass if she’d like a refill” that day at waiter college. That was the last we saw of him. We waited about fifteen minutes for Daniel’s “ice cream treat.” Eventually, I had to go to the bartender to ask about it. I said, “I think our waiter abandoned us. We were supposed to get some sort of ice cream with the kid’s meal.” “Oh,” the bartender replied. She pressed a display on her computer which turned the icon of our table from yellow to red. Then she went into the back and returned with one of those little ice cream cups with the tongue depressor spoon.

Admittedly, the food was pretty good, but the service really ruined the experience for us. One other thing I have to mention is that the place is decorated with various game animal heads. The centerpiece is “Randolph the Moose.” If you kiss the moose, employees start clanging a loud bell. Once one person kisses the moose, everyone has to kiss the moose. So the bell must be rung. Every time. They’ve been doing this for 128 years. No doubt this particular tradition got old 127 years and 364 days ago.

(Strangely, when I used to summer camp at Camp Manatoc in the Boy Scouts a similar “Kiss the moose” tradition existed in our dining hall. Is there a connection?)

When we left Sleder’s another couple was entering. The woman asked us how it was. I admitted that the service was lousy. She then mentioned that she and her husband were going to eat there because it was mentioned in “this book.” Could they have meant THE book? The love of my life? The core of my being? YES! I then proceeded to rabbit on about our adventures while these poor people slowly starved to death on the steps of this restaurant. Eventually, an ashamed and disgraced Laura dragged me away.

Ok, so the restaurant wasn’t so hot, but we didn’t come to the bay to eat. Sticking out in the middle of Grand Traverse Bay is the narrow Old Mission Peninsula. It kind of looks like Michigan is flipping Canada the bird. (Still sore about the War of 1812.) We decided to drive up and down the peninsula – about an hour round trip. Along the way Daniel discovered a new way to amuse himself – bopping back and forth in his car seat. There was something strangely hilarious about it and the more we laughed the more he did it, which only led to more laughter. Maybe it was the hours in the car that had made us all loopy that night, but the three of us were caught up in a cycle of laughing – the tears streaming down your cheeks kind. Oh, Daniel – never grow up!

We soon reached the tip of the peninsula, anchored by an old lighthouse and a stunning panoramic view. We got there just as the sun was starting to set. Thomas Kinkade, eat your heart out.

Laura took Daniel out into the shallow waters bay and I’ve never seen him have so much fun in his little life. This was a spontaneous decision, so we didn’t have his swimming gear. By the end of the evening he was filthy and his clothes were drenched, but he didn’t care. Neither did we.

56. LEELANAU PENINSULA

Michigan

7/25/2010

We rounded Grand Traverse Bay on our way over to the Leelanau Peninsula. Patricia also includes Traverse City in the golden triangle, so technically we coexisted in three of the 1000 places at once. Yes. We are that awesome.

We worked our way as far west as we could and then back up and around the peninsula. Most of the west coast consists of the Sleeping Bear Dune State Park. It costs $10 for a day pass (don’t tell Woody Guthrie) and that grants you access to the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. Along the way are various overlooks where you can stop, get out and look at the monkey. Daniel looked standing on an overlook dangling hundreds of feet over Lake Michigan. Child services have been informed.

There’s also one covered bridge – so it can tie with Parke County as the covered bridge capital of the world.

After the park we continued on the coast-hugging highway M-22. I noticed a car with an “M-22” bumper sticker, so we’re at least as cool as that guy. We soon reached Leland. We stopped in at the Schultz-recommended Carlson’s Fishery. Out back is their boat. The fishermen bring fresh catches through the back down and then they sell it from the front door. That’s about as fresh as you can get. We would have loved to have bought some, but we had no way to cook it.

We sat by the pier for awhile and watched the boats drift by, while Daniel snacked on a little dish of cherry ice cream. (Did you know this region of Michigan supplies 75% of the world’s cherry crop? I didn’t, but Patricia Schultz told me. You should really buy her book.)

55. LITTLE TRAVERSE BAY

Michigan

7/25/2010

Midway between Grayling and Little Traverse Bay is Gaylord – our stopping point for the night. We stayed in the Alpine Lodge Magnuson Hotel – a really nice hotel, practically giving away rooms on Priceline. It’s worth checking out these “off-brand” hotels sometimes.

Little Traverse Bay is speckled with a few small beach-front towns. We started the morning with Mass at St. Francis Xavier in Petoskey. When we walked in to the church we were shocked – it is an exact duplicate of St. Thomas Aquinas in Zanesville, Ohio (some 500 miles away) where Laura and I were married. The similarity was uncanny – from the stained glass windows, to the statuary, to the stations of the cross –everything was absolutely identical. Must have been the same architect. Hey, if something works…

After Mass we wandered through the town’s upscale Gaslight District (so-called because of the gas lamps lining the streets). Aimed at the super-rich, we poked our noses into a clothes boutique. A pair of ripped jeans: only $249.

We browsed through the Schultz-approved Symons General Store, chocked full of imported goodies. I shamelessly took a free sample of Swiss coffee I could never afford.

There’s no point in going to a bay and not seeing the bay. While Laura fed Philip I took Daniel on a stroll down the pier to look at the water splashing against rocks and all the different boats. Much excited pointed ensued from Daniel. (Translation: “I like this!”)

Next we drove a little further up the bay to Harbor Springs, which made Petoskey look like a shanty-town in comparison. It’s bad when we see a hotel and then you realize it’s not a hotel – it’s a house. Our main goal of visiting Harbor Springs was to eat at Juilleret’s Soda Fountain, the oldest restaurant in Michigan. I had called before going on this trip and discovered they were closing down for good on August 1st. In fact, the day we arrived was one of the only days until that closing date in which they would be open to the public at all. When we went in there were price tags on everything, bolted down or otherwise. There were pictures in the window of some of the soda fountain treats they had been serving up since 1895. There was none of that available now. The equipment was shut down and the unhappy-looking employees (probably the Juilleret family) could only offer some burgers and a few bottles of soda. Another timeless institution bites the dust. Sad.

54. MICHIGAN'S GOLDEN TRIANGLE

Michigan

7/24/2010

Patricia calls most of northwestern Michigan “the golden triangle” – a naturalists dream roughly delineated by the cities of Boyne City, Grayling and Manistee. In my research I haven’t been able to find anyone else call it that, so maybe she made it up. That’s fine by me. Her entry focuses on several beautiful rivers that meander through the region – apparently fishing favorites of Ernest Hemmingway (his third favorite pastime after drinking and writing Great American novels.)

Rather than taking a more direct route from Ann Arbor into the triangle we thought it would be more fun to follow one of these rivers – the Au Sable – from its mouth at eastern Michigan’s Lake Huron to its beginning in the town of Grayling. We turned off the GPS (I cried) and just followed the run of the river as best we could, stopping occasionally along the way to splash around.

After a couple of hours we reached Grayling – home of the International Au Sable River Canoe Marathon (the longest non-stop canoe-only race in North America), which strangely Schultz mentions should be avoided since it interferes with the fishing. Patricia – trust your old buddy, Oliver. I feel like after going through 5.4% of your journey I know your tastes pretty well. You would love this!

Yep. The night of the race was when we pulled into town and instead of finding the congested nightmare we expected we found a town in love with this annual event. Although there was a huge crowd, everything was laid back, people were over-the-top friendly, and every business in town seemed involved in helping. Parking was free everywhere, which is almost unheard of at these kinds of events. (In my hometown you have people trying to charge $10 for people to park in their driveways just for high school football games.) Local groups were selling hotdogs for $1 and seemed to be actually interested in people having a good time than – gasp! – ripping off some tourists. A real class act of a town.

As for the race itself, Laura and I got really good seats right on the river. (Some tables and deck chairs had been set up for anyone to use.) It was still a little while before the race was going to begin, so I took Daniel to grab us all some hotdogs. In the few minutes I went to get the hotdogs and when I tried to return to our seats a barrier had been erected, separating Daniel and I from the others. Apparently the barrier had been raised to give the racers a clear passage to run down the street to the launching point. The race began and the racers ran down the street with their canoes above their heads to the cheers of the crowd. One guy close to where I was standing kept catcalling at the female racers as they bobbed down the street. He thought he was really funny. His wife did not.

Once the racers ran past the mob broke through the line in order to get to the river. Like any good mob member I dutifully followed. I was able to get a pretty good view of the canoeists paddling furiously and Daniel got pretty excited at the spectacle. There was still a barrier separating us from Laura and Philip, but we could see each other again. Eventually the Berlin Wall opened up and we were reunited.

On our way back to the car Laura informed me that while we had been separated she had been talking to these two people who had visited many of the places we have and seemed very interested in our trips and the “1000 Places” book. Great! The only two people alive interested in our journeys and a couple of hotdogs kept me from meeting them.

P.S. FROM LAURA:

While Oliver and Daniel left to look around, I took the opportunity to feed Philip, and enjoy the good view we had near the river. We had a whole hour before the race was to start. Strangers tend to be kind and friendly when they see you with a baby, so I struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to me. Though they were residents of Michigan, but had never attended the canoe race. The husband, in particular, was very excited about the event. He seemed to know a lot about the race, itself. It was natural to ask what had brought us to the event. Of course, I mentioned Patricia Schultz’s book, and why we were there. They seemed most impressed with our quest. I’m very bad at remembering every site we have seen, so I couldn’t delight them with very many stories about our adventures. In fact, I probably gave the impression that I have been comatose during most of our travels, but they were kind not to point that out. They, too, had been to a couple places we had visited, which was fun comparing notes. Being residents of Michigan, they also knew the good places to see throughout the state. They seemed to think that their state was awesome, and I couldn’t help but agree. Michigan is beautiful. It took me back to my old days, when I grew up in Oregon. They even gave me some tips about where to go, and what to see. Most of what they mentioned were in the book, so they seemed to agree with Patricia Schultz. I really wished that Oliver was there with me, as he would have jumped up and down with glee talking to them. As for me, I was more interested in the supersize antique malls they were visiting….. SHOPPING!

After a little while, some people around me decided to smoke. Because I had the baby, I thought it best to move to a different place. While standing under the shade, I was accosted by a grandmother and her young grandson. The grandmother was faintly apologetic, but she explained that her grandson had a sister who was going to have a baby soon and that he was interested in our baby. He asked if our two month old was talking yet. I said, “No. They are too young.” The boy seemed very disappointed and said, “I don’t think our baby will be very interesting.” I promised him that babies grow up, and that he would soon have fun teaching his nephew all sorts of things. The grandson seemed thoroughly unimpressed.

53. ANN ARBOR STREET ART FAIR

Ann Arbor, Michigan

7/24/2010

The big summer trip finally arrived. Mission: Conquer Michigan’s Lower Peninsula in three days. (Whose freaky idea was it to split Michigan into two chunks anyway?)

We started off by driving four hours to Ann Arbor. A fairly uneventful trip, except while Laura was scanning through radio stations over and over and over and over and over again we stumbled onto a folk station where the DJ was waxing poetically about Bill Monroe. He’s everywhere, man.

Dark clouds and drizzle greeted us in Ann Arbor, but we had a singular objective – the Original Ann Arbor Street Art Fair. It’s called the “original” because three other art fairs go on at the same time. The more the merrier, I guess. Kind of confusing at first glance, but once you get there a color-coded map makes it easy to get around.

We circumnavigated the fair in about an hour. That was enough for us. A “look at the monkey” situation, which isn’t a criticism. Some of the art was interesting or at least demented (like a head with lots of little heads climbing out of it). We had to pay $10 to park, but there was no charge for the fair itself, so it’s not a bad deal.

(Parking tip: Park in the University of Michigan lot on Thayer and Washington. Its within a few feet of the fair and the private lots around town were charging as high as $20 and were not nearly as close.)

52. MOUNTAIN STATE ART AND CRAFT FAIR

Ripley, West Virginia

7/3/2010

The Mountain State Art and Craft Fair began in 1963 to celebrate West Virginia’s centennial. Forty-seven years later, Laura, Daniel, Philip and I went there.

The fair is held outdoors at the sprawling Cedar Lakes Conference Center, with dozens of artisans demonstrating their craftsmanship. Tickets are a piddling $6 each and if you go on their website you can print out a coupon for $1 off. For the size of this event, $5 is almost criminally low. (Compare to the $35 admission price for the Cincinnati Flower Show, for example.)

When we first arrived the “Appalachian Lads and Lassies” were unenthusiastically Irish dancing. Odd name, since there was not a lad to be seen in the group. They were actually very good, but they all had that “I’m a pre-teen girl and I’m afraid that cute guy in school is going to see me actually doing this” look on their faces. You're outstanding, girls! Don't be embarrassed. Keep doing what you're doing, but smile. I really think that's all it would take to have people flocking to see you.

After watching the dancing for awhile, we explored the “interactive workshops” section of the fair. Basically, artisans would teach volunteers to make a small craft in the hand-made Appalachian style. Basketry, broom making, nature printing, woodturning, needle felting, rug hooking, and quilting were some of the stations. They even had spinning wheels you could use to spin yarn. One of the coolest stations had a man demonstrating how to create stained glass ornaments. We actually tried to sign up to try this, but he was so popular we couldn’t get a spot. It was still fun to watch other people though. Bear in mind that all of this was free with admission and you could keep the craft after you made it. (Learn from our inexperience: Come early to sign up for the workshops so you know you’ll get a chance. It’s not very clear from the research I did that you have to do that.)

Three times a day a farmer did a sheep shearing demonstration and I wanted to make sure Daniel got to see that. That was a lot of fun, since we had to wait around for a few minutes before the sheep were driven over in a little cart. Daniel kept pointing at them in amazement. He was then utterly shocked when the men took the sheep from the cart and out into the grass with the people. He stared in fascination at the shearing and watched shyly as older kids petted the now-naked sheep. (I use the term because there was a little girl, laughing hysterically and yelling, “The sheep is naked! The sheep is naked!”) Eventually, Daniel worked up enough courage to pat the sheep himself. His pride as his bravery was quite apparent.

Upping the ante, we brought him over to the alleged “Exotic Petting Zoo.” Apparently, a bunch of goats equate to exotic. Daniel was pretty scared at first, but his jaw literally dropped like a cartoon character when a baby goat jumped on me. Feeling it was now safe, he started to run around, terrorizing every animal he could. Actually, Daniel is a very gentle boy. We have taught him to pet our cat and he treated the goats in much the same way.

After Daniel had enough we went to the live auction station. I’ve never been to an auction before in my life, so I thought that was pretty exciting. I kind of wanted to bid on something just to say I did, but I was too chicken.

Feeling kind of hungry we did what all self-respecting cheapskates do – we went to all the food vendors for free samples. If you like barbecue sauce or salsa, this is for you. We thought the lady selling mushrooms growing on a stump was stretching “buyer beware” a little too far, but I never say no to a free sample. (I must note with happiness that absolutely every vendor was selling hand-made or hand-grown goods made only in West Virginia. No foreign invaders here.)

Before we left we stopped by a booth labeled “Westman Instruments” where a man was playing what we thought was a type of dulcimer. He explained that it is called a psaltery and he kindly took the time to give Laura a quick lesson. Actually, that incident highlights our experience at the fair: These craftsmen and musicians were there to demonstrate their wares, but mostly to educate people about some of these almost-forgotten art forms. It was clear they wish to ignite some of the enthusiasm that they have in others. Well, the first thing Laura did when we came home was look up more information on the psaltery. We regretted we hadn’t bought one while we were there. So, there are two more psaltery fans in the world thanks to the Mountain State Art and Craft Fair. Could there be a better recommendation from us than that?