Rear-view mirror

        In the week since we got back from Michigan, I’ve boiled down the trip into a couple succinct impressions. To wit:

n The weather was good when we needed it to be good, which was that one day on Mackinac Island. That’s where I got all the sun that’s still making me tan.

 

 

n When my sensitive tooth acted up in Mackinaw City the night before we went to the island, the nearest bottle of aspirin was at WalMart, some 20 minutes away, or down in Cheboyban, which was even further. Fortunately, the island had aspirin. In Doud’s, the nation’s oldest grocery store.

 

Mackinac Island was the highlight of the trip. And the highlight had its highlights:

n We spent the most time at Fort Mackinac, witnessing a rifle firing and a cannon firing and poking our noses into almost all the buildings. A backwater after the War of 1812, but great history there.

 

n Tourists that we are, we lingered on Main Street, with its bicycles and horse-drawn carts (no cars allowed on the island). We immediately were drawn to the island’s signature fudge shops. We bit first at a new Sanders in a  bicycle-themed shopping arcade, then discovered fudge-making in progress at Murdick’s, the island’s original purveyor. Fascinating, the way they pour the hot liquid onto marble tables, then shape it as it cools. The guy at Murdick’s turned the shaping process into a dance and was the most artistic fudge guy we saw all day.

 

n Big disappointment was the island’s most prominent attraction, the Grand Hotel. $10 just to walk in the door and an officious young woman making sure you didn’t get too close to the entrance without anteing up. Brother Bill, his wife Sue and I opted for $5 ice cream cones while Monica paid her $10, went inside and took pictures. Not that much to look at, she reported.

 

Secondary highlight was Frankenmuth, the “Little Bavaria” Christmas community, which we reached by driving through a torrential rainstorm, like going through a 50-mile-long car wash at 75 mph. Happily, it let up long enough for us to hit the biggest tourist traps:

n What else would you eat in Frankenmuth but one of the famous chicken dinners at Zehnder’s, where there’s a sign posted saying it’s served the most meals of any independently-owned restaurant. (Unless, of course, you’re Monica and order a Caesar salad.) Quantity did not equal quality, however. The fried chicken dinner was merely OK, and our poor waitress in her German peasant uniform was just plain inept.

 

n Where else would you duck into when the rain started up again but Bronner’s, the world’s largest Christmas store? It was so overwhelming that I went through all five stages of denial, finally arriving at acceptance, i.e, feeling the urge to buy an overpriced Chinese-made ornament. As if we ever have a tree on which to display it.

 

And then there are the things that I’ll hardly ever get around to mentioning:

n Best idea that ought to get transplanted to Buffalo – the Great Lakes Maritime Heritage Center in Alpena. Basically, it’s a museum of shipwrecks, mostly Lake Huron shipwrecks – Alpena has seen hundreds – and it was an hour-plus well-spent. Lake Erie has seen some pretty spectacular shipwrecks, too. Add in the War of 1812 boats, the Crystal Beach boats and the Erie Canal barges, plus some lake weather-related exhibits (the Seche of 1844, the Blizzard of 1977) and we’d have a terrific addition to Canalside.

 

n Eating and drinking local. In northern Michigan, that means fish – whitefish and bass, breaded and fried. (Monica stuck to chicken.) I went for fish entrees in Alpena and Mackinaw City, even had a fish sandwich during our late lunch under the spiffy tin ceiling at Horn’s Gaslight Bar and Restaurant on Mackinac Island’s Main Street (a tip from the Win-Some Women conference-goers we sat next to on the ferry). Michigan wines are a pale shadow of New York wines and internet commentators say the only ones worth drinking are the Reislings. Most Michigan wines we saw were pricey and Monica wouldn’t chance them. Craft beers, on the other hand, are abundant and I sampled several. That fish sandwich at Horn’s was washed down with a couple Widow Maker Black Ales from Keweenaw Brewing Co. in Houghton, Mich., which I highly recommend.
 

 

n Best accommodations? Brother Bill’s house. Separate bedrooms. Our own bath. A shower with multiple heads and a built-in radio. And, after the weather turned cold upon our return, that fabulous radiant heating system. Warm tile floors. Heaven! On the road, heat was quirky – either too hot or too cold – during our two nights in the lakeside Best Western in Mackinaw City. And the best that can be said about the Days Inn in Alpena is that it was cramped, minimal and nondescript.

 

n Which are faster – the Canadian expressways or Highway 3 and the local roads? Buffalo to Highland, Mich., took 6½ hours, using the two-lane routes to cut off the loop through Hamilton, Ont. Highland back to Buffalo via the 402, the 401, the 403 and the Queen Elizabeth Way took roughly the same 6½ hours, thanks to getting lost in construction detours approaching the Blue Water Bridge in Port Huron, Mich., an extra Tim Hortons stop, and rush hour crawls on the Lincoln M. Alexander Parkway in Hamilton and the QEW. Give me the local roads, please.