Time to Move

I love Hessel. The quiet, the isolation; it offers a chance to charge your batteries outside the pressure of the real world. You're simply away from it all and can catch your breath.

But maybe the world is creeping up upon Hessel. Maybe it's time to move on, deeper into the interior of Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula. Civilization it seems is catching up to the Les Cheneaux Islands. I had to wait for two cars to pass on Cedar Street before I could pull out of my driveway yesterday. Two cars.

The hustle and bustle were suffocating.

Downstate Michigan

I've written before about where Up North actually is in my home state of Michigan. It's the Upper Peninsula, by the way. Sometimes I envy Milwaukee because it's closer to da UP than Detroit. Then I remember that it's Milwaukee, and Wisconsin no less, and I don't feel so bad.

But anyway, at what point when coming from Up North do the downstate vibes start? Well, and this may offend some people where no offense is meant, when I’m coming home I begin getting those vibes at Gaylord, around 60 miles below the Mackinac Bridge connecting our state's two peninsulas. I mean, you have a WalMart, Gaylord, and enough hotels to house a weekend Elks convention. That's kind of at least a large semi-rural area thing you know.

Anywhere after Gaylord the downstate feelings simply come on stronger and stronger, until by mile marker 188 on Interstate 75, you may as well be in Detroit. And that's just the way it is.

Everyone Needs a Getaway

While picking up a few things at a local store in Hessel, a tiny village in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, I engaged the cashier is a little conversation. "I'm up here from Detroit, doing a few things with our cabin," I said at one point.

"Yeah," the cashier, a local, replied, "I have to get down to Harrison and work on our place there."

Harrison is just about smack in the middle of the mitten, or lower peninsula, of Michigan. "It's so quiet and peaceful," the man continued.

Though I didn't pursue it, I couldn't help but think, 'Quiet and peaceful there? You're in the sparsely populated UP. How could it possibly be quieter downstate (downstate is generally frowned upon by us Yoopers, folks from da UP) than Hessel?' 

We all need a getaway, I suppose. I just can't see what he's getting away from in Hessel by going two hours south. No offense, Harrison, because I've been there and you're cool. But escaping Hessel at all...I can't wrap my head around that.

A Different World

It's sometimes hard to appreciate how different the same place can be. 

I don't notice the change in seasons in and around home all that much. They're so slow and subtle that by the time you realize that the Sun isn't rising until 7:30 in the morning it isn't rising until 7:50. You don't get that it's been setting well before 8 until it's setting at 6:45. Then I visit Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula in late September and the differences from the Fourth of July, the last time I was here, are stark.

Yesterday I was star gazing at 6 AM. No sign of old Sol, not even a hint that he might be prowling about. But the stars were out in force even with a nearly full Moon, if you looked in the right direction. At the same time in July the Sun has obliterated the full Moon by almost a half hour. I've taken my morning walks then as early as 5, in a reasonable amount of dawn color.

Last night I went to the 6:30 Mass in Detour, around 35 minutes east of Hessel, for my Sunday obligation. Yeah, I know, like me Uncle Charles used to tease, I'm really a Seventh Day Adventist. That's funny if you appreciate religious humor. But however that may be, by the time Mass was over and I was making the drive back to Hessel, while it wasn't exactly dark it was surely the evening twilight. And it was dark by the time I was back at the house just after 8. 8 PM in Hessel three months ago? We would still have daylight for nearly two more hours, and twilight until about 11.

It's still great because it's still Hessel. It just doesn't look like it.

Pennsylvania Autumn

Driving back from New York City last weekend, I noticed that the trees in Pennsylvania had already begun to turn. There wasn't a ton of color, and most of it was at it or near the tops. But reds and oranges were poking about the green.

It didn't seem normal to me. Last Monday when travelling it was still technically summer. If you were to draw a line directly east from Detroit, I would have been south of it. There's been no sign of fall colors here.

Don't get me wrong. It was nice to see and broke up the journey, which is great when traversing Pennsylvania. It always seems to take an inordinate amount of time to cross, even though it's only 310 miles. I drive just about that far (306 miles) on the freeway going to Hessel in da UP. Why does it feel longer on Interstate 80 through the Keystone State?

The simple answer is that it's Pennsylvania and not Michigan. I'm used to Michigan, so the time doesn't seem the same. But I appreciate Pennsylvania's effort to make the journey more pleasant.

Where It's At

This column probably doesn't apply if you aren't from Michigan. But the great debate in our state (that word series is uncomfortably close to alliteration) is, where does Up North begin? 

The Thumb isn't up north. Don't get me wrong: the Thumb is wonderful. It's the number two spot in the state. It has a lot going for it. But it ain't up north. It's too far south, too close to Detroit.

Some say up north begins at Bay City. Well, you start to taste it there, after mile 162 on Interstate 75. Yet you merely taste it, just get a whiff of up north air. 

West Branch? Just a lunch stop along the way.

Grayling? Gaylord? Too touristy. But you can feel the change from downstate as the positive vibes of the north country begin to reach you.

Mackinaw City, right at the top of the Mitt? Oh, oh, oh, so close it's tantalizing. Yet it too, along with Mackinac Island, while great places to visit, simply have too many vacationers, at least during the peak summer months.

But next, finally crossing the Mackinac Bridge into Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, you are Up North. The rest of the state is just an extension of Detroit. It's that simple.

Dollar For Dollar

I firmly believe that we ought to appreciate the little things in life. The older I get, the more the little things can seem, well, really little.

This past July as I spent a few days in Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula with the Ohio Cosgriffs, we took a day trip all the way to DeTour Village. For da UP, it wasn't much of a trip: a mere 28 miles each way from Hessel. But there was a rummage sale at Sacred Heart Church, and we all know that small town rummage sales are well worth exploration. So off we went, me happily spending me daughter-in-law's gas on the journey.

I bought something at the sale with someone else's money (me son or me daughter-in-law one, I forget; such great kids!) and then we stopped at the brand new DeTour Dollar General. Throughout the walk through the store all I could think was, 'This is one great Dollar General'.

A little thing, but it made an impression on me. But have I gone too far the other way? Should something as mundane as a small town variety store mean so much? Or am I just getting old?

Surely not that last question.

Just Jivin'

It is truly nice, very neat indeed, when you can joke with customers. It's one of the best job perks which sales can offer.

One guy, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, began giving me playful grief a few years back over my trips to da UP. "So that's how it works, Marty? You make enough money to go up north and leave the rest of us working class grunts slaving away?"

"Pretty much, yeah, Cloyce," I answered.

So now when be calls me with an order he starts with, "Hey Marty, I hear through the grapevine that you want to go up north, so I'll help you." Similarly, I might contact him and say, "Cloyce, I want to go to the Upper Peninsula and I need a few bucks." 

"Okay, Marty, bring me blah, blah, blah, because I don't want you to miss any days off while we're at the grindstone down here."

We have fun. And it makes work fun too.

Testing Testing

The Ohio Cosgriffs were kind enough to buy a new Keurig for when we're up north in da U.P. in Hessel, Michigan. I was fortunate enough to be able to bring it this weekend.

It's a dual action coffee maker, you might say. On one side you can brew an entire pot. Meanwhile, there's  a port (I think you could call it a port) where you can make single cups. Technology. It's cool. Or hot, where coffee brewing is concerned.

I have so far made one entire pot of twelve cups and one single cup, just to test it out. It has passed the initial trial swimmingly. Of course I'll need to test it out several more times over the next couple of days. The scientific method and all that, because I need to be sure.

The Brick Flag - Or - Being Up North

There's always been debate among folks in Michigan about where Up North begins. For those not in the know, Up North is a term used in general as vacationland for Michigan residents. It's where we go to get away from Detroit, or any big city in the southern third of the state.

A local joke is that people from Chicago and northern Indiana think Grand Rapids is Up North. Look at a map and you'll get it.

Bur where does Up North actually begin? For Yoopers, those who live in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, it doesn't start until you've crossed the Big Mac, the five mile long bridge which connects our two peninsulas. For some in the northern Lower Peninsula, you aren't Up North until at least Houghton or West Branch. Some few even argue that the Thumb qualifies. Yeah, a map might help understand this too. But for me, Up North has a very definite starting point. It's a large brick American flag on the west side of Interstate 75 about four miles past Bay City as you drive north.

One side of it is the Betsy Ross flag, the one with the thirteen stars in a circle on the blue field. The other is the current fifty star version. The brick flag is just after I-75 merges into only two lanes, another sure sign you're Up North. Most of the freeway is 3 to 4 lanes south of Bay City, with only a short two lane stretch in southern Gennesse County (which is decidedly, all will agree with  me here, nor real up north at all).

To be sure, it's still only one-third of the way to Hessel for us Detroiters. But the instant I see that brick flag (it was even constructed with a mild wave in it), I'm up north. I can't speak for others, but it fits the bill for me.

28 minutes

We got back to the D yesterday after a weekend in Hessel, in Michigan's glorious upper Peninsula. It was a small and all too quick family get together. But I imagine all good times are too quick, eh?

Yet it could have been shorter. In this case the early arrivals up North, my eldest son, daughter-in-law, and myself went to the Upper Peninsula State Fair in Escanaba, three hours from Hessel in the western UP. We were on the road there about a half hour after I had gotten in this past Friday.  My daughter-in-law cracked wise to me as we started our journey to the Fair, "I hope you enjoyed your stay in Hessel!" 

Hey, 28 minutes in Hessel beats 28 minutes in a lot of other places, I responded quite truly.

The UP State fair was well worth the brief moments in Hessel. And we managed to stay a couple extra days after anyway.