Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 8

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Karen Goff in New York

The foul weather and heavy clouds that have been hanging over Mom and me on a personal level are clearing. With a week to go before we got back to Phoenix, we had to put the squabbles behind us. Breakfast is at Bauernstube German American Restaurant. We both have waffles with blueberries and then head on down the road.

New York

Now, I get to try finding the beauty out here on these incredible summer days again. Flowers are always good at seducing me into seeing things in a positive light.

New York

We are traveling along the St. Lawrence Seaway today, passing farms, forests, small towns, wildflowers, orchards, horses, lakes, more of the seaway, and some truly beautiful villages, each seemingly more spectacular than the last. With the sun shining so brightly upon us, we have slowed to a pace that might impact our ability to cover the 200 miles we need to drive today.

New York

I’m dreaming of the overwhelming need to bring Caroline out here and go kayaking among the Thousand Islands. Actually, there are more than 1,800 islands found between Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence River that make up this popular recreation site. While traveling through, I’m not without trepidation about what the area is like during the height of summer, but then I remind myself that we are here in mid-summer, and it’s not all that busy.

New York

At one pullout, we stumble upon a couple from Gilbert, Arizona, who just spent their 47th wedding anniversary at Bar Harbor, Maine. We talked for a half-hour before getting on with the road trip and wishing each other the best. A good few hours pass while we stop for photos and otherwise meander.

New York

Lunch is in Alexandria Bay at the Top of the Bay Patio Bar with a salad and meatball sandwich sent up from Cavallarie’s Bayside Pizza below the bar. The view is from the Upper James Street Dock.

New York

A few more miles west, we stop in Clayton at the Antique Boat Museum, where Mom has the opportunity to demonstrate her vast knowledge of boating.

New York

My mom is shining as she indulges in remembering a youth before she was sidetracked by her indiscretion that produced children. Life on Lake Erie and the Niagara River was a large part of life, along with winter trips down to Florida where my grandparents Herbert and Hazel would take my mom for fishing and boating during the worst of the Buffalo winters. Like many youths, they can’t see the luxury of how good they have it but can only focus on what they think is being denied them by over-restrictive parents. Forty years ago, my mom’s life was perfect, though she couldn’t see it, and now, among the wooden boats, she shares how Herbert built his own boat and how, over time, he’d come to own a number of larger and larger yachts with membership at the local yacht club.

New York

Wow, what a beautiful canoe. While I have the worst sense of balance seated in a canoe, that doesn’t mean it would stop me from wanting to paddle away from the dock with Caroline on an adventure into the waters of part of this country between New York and Canada.

New York

Cape Vincent: we turn southward and are now on Lake Ontario. The drive is starting to wind down for the day.

New York

Water seeping out of rock might be part of your normal, but for me, it’s magical.

New York

In Oswego, we find the perfect lodging. We were about to pass through the town, but a stop at a gas station for ice on our way to Cayuga on the Finger Lakes changed our plans. A friendly gal in the convenience store tells us of a great place for dinner around the corner and so I asked about lodging too. She tells us about some cabins right next door to the restaurant. Still early in the day, at 4:30 p.m., we call it quits for the day.

Our room for the night is a hot and humid little cabin overlooking Lake Ontario. All windows are open, two doors are open, and two fans are straining to push around as much air as possible.

Karen Goff in New York

Dinner at Rudy’s Lakeside Drive-In was great. I had the Haddock sandwich, and Mom had a plate of Haddock and Scallops. Of course, fries come with every order. Rudy’s is one busy place and has been there since 1947.

New York

We sit lakeside a while but need to leave the late setting sun to return to our cabin. Getting back relatively early lets me knock out some writing while hoping to get the chance to find sleep early tonight.

John Wise in New York

I had to visit the car so I could talk in private with Caroline and let her know that Mom and I were on the mend. I took the picture above of myself so she could see with her own eyes that my smile was real.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 7

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Vermont

What happened yesterday was bound to be part of our reality; I’m only surprised it took six days for it to arrive. The squabble carried through to today before things grew so bad that we simply stopped speaking to one another.

Vermont

Momma bird has never been good about tending to the nest, letting her young fend for themselves; this is the privilege of an only child. Approaching Montreal, I find myself grinding my teeth. While we cannot fully bypass the city, I make a circuitous route to avoid the center, but from what I can see of the diversity and architecture from afar, this would be a great place to explore with someone in love with what’s really important. Mom is grumbling about how worn out she is from our grueling drive and her insatiable hunger.

I’m not stopping for anything except border control in the United States. I want out of Canada so she can stop shitting on my sense of being inclusive of cultures, diversity, and adversity. Breakfast can wait until we are in Vermont. From my view of Montreal on the edges of the city, I can see a place bustling with a mashup of people on the streets. Hasidic Jews walk amongst Jamaicans, Hindus, Africans, Asians, and various other Canadians. Where I grew up in Los Angeles, ethnic groups seem to be segregated into enclaves, just as New York City had predominantly Irish and Italian neighborhoods prior to gentrification.

Vermont

I am determined that Caroline and I come back at the first possible chance as this is much closer than Europe with a lot of the cultural charm that attracts me to those old-world countries. It has been a breath of fresh air to see gasoline priced in liters and kilometers per hour on the highways; the temperature, while a hot 36 degrees Celsius, has this American loving the differences.

Our breakfast was in North Hero at Hero’s Welcome, but only reluctantly so. You see, Caroline and I stopped here five years ago and loved the place. My return was made in order to call Caroline from here and tell her if it was still the same and still as appealing as we thought. It was.

Further south in Charlotte, Vermont, is America’s oldest still-operating ferry crossing. We are heading across Lake Champlain for Essex, New York.

New York

With some food in us, my mom and I decided that we’d try to leave the events of the last 12 hours behind us. Serious damage has been done to our relationship, though I don’t believe my mother understands that. She thinks that what we say is of little consequence and that I take things too seriously. She is my mom; for god’s sake, I am supposed to take her seriously. I drove and stopped for the occasional photo, hoping my mom wouldn’t return to blurting out any more of her intolerance.

New York

Turbulent waters don’t settle quickly. I grew up at a time of great diversity, both generationally and culturally, combined with obvious gender and racial divides that were collapsing. Los Angeles in the 1970s and early 80s was a melting pot of people from all walks of life having an infinity of roles that were being played out. Not only did my mother dislike personal responsibility to such a degree that she abandoned my sister and me at kindergarten around 1968, but she’d carry that forward into her later years regarding her health, spending her own and other people’s money, along with her own mother, father, and aunt who she convinced to move to Arizona so they could be closer to a supportive caregiver. In the end, she squandered their savings on bad investments, travel, food, and her own business while putting a roof over their head but little more.

She knew when she threw us away that the man who would care for us was violent and physically abusive. One of my earliest memories of my father was seeing him beating up my mother in rage; I was probably about 3 or 4 years old. My mother wanted the yacht club life of being doted on by someone who would tolerate her and allow her to do as she pleased. I tend to believe that the only reason my mother brought my sister and me back into her life when we were in our late teens was so she could hang out with people who would be impressed by her carefree, do-anything lifestyle. Tragically, I didn’t understand the extent of her selfishness earlier and would get caught up with her fantasy life, but only to a point. The instinct to cherish and love your mom is innate, apparently, the same regarding your children is not the rule.

New York

As we drove through New York, passing the touristic town of Lake Placid, I couldn’t help but stew on, wondering who this stranger was next to me. I’m in conflict about the sense of responsibility and what love for a parent means when both of them turn out to be fundamentally broken. The child still within continues to look for approval and a motherly embrace, but in mine, I see a seething, horrible person who puts on a facade in order to attract sympathetic people to her pretend plight. Has my mother ever known happiness besides the times she’s left alone behind a plate of food? Her solace is a dish of oysters, and her altar is found in the Temple of Crème Brûlée.

You may think these are harsh words for someone who is dead at the time when much of it is being written, but the sentiment of her selfishness and narrowmindedness was shared with her more than once, which resulted in us not talking for years or me leaving family gatherings such as Thanksgiving after her spit-filled anger of calling me an asshole, just like my rotten father. So what is love when your parents are miscreants? For a long time, it was an unknown but highly desired mythical something that didn’t seem would exist for me. I couldn’t find it in others. Then, somewhere along the road, back while I was living in Germany and before I met Caroline I found a path to loving myself and all of my peculiarities, misgivings, fear, anxiety, and self-loathing. Relatively quickly, I discovered that just because your parents resent you and do not know how to share love doesn’t mean you must be bereft of such feelings within.

New York

Ah, the sunset. Caroline and I share the same appreciation and love of the magical sunsets that close out wonderful days. I look upon this one and dream of the next sunset I’ll share with her, knowing that it will stir mutual feelings of wonderment, and for those moments, we’ll be the only people on earth basking in the warm golden embrace of the sun.

This is Saranac Lake, where I first thought of stopping for the night before deciding to continue down the road.

New York

In Potsdam, New York, we visited Sergi’s Italian Restaurant & Pizzeria suggested to us by a couple walking along the road in the Adirondacks near Mount Arab. We gorged ourselves because that’s what we do, especially when confronted with emotional turmoil. Mom ate so much baked ziti, which she couldn’t finish that she had to skip dessert.

We continued westward to Massena, grabbing a room at the Lakeview Motel. Only $50 for the night and right on the shore of the Saint Lawrence Seaway. The evening comes to an end with me learning that my mom doesn’t believe one of her three children respects her. I am lost.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 6

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Canada

Waking to the call of the loon in Canada, what could be better? Recordings of the loon do not do this bird any justice; it is an amazing sound made more fascinating as two loons are talking across the lake. The pink and orange light of dawn is reflected in the lake, with thin, lacey clouds adding a touch of extra beauty. A woodpecker rattles a nearby tree while songbirds undulate their whistles to the rising sun. I snapped a few photos before waking Mom to admire the lake. It is more beautiful now than it was the day before.

We lingered by the lake until breakfast. Mom had oatmeal, which she was sure was the best she’d ever had; while I opted for a cheese omelet and home fries, a good breakfast made all the better by the environs. Cabin number 9 at Lang Lake Resort is the note to future me to return here. Before leaving, we sat and watched a loon dipping below the surface of the lake to fish, not reappearing for minutes at a time.

Canada

Lang Lake was south of Espanola and after a short drive back up the dirt road, we rejoined road number 6, heading north to Espanola once more. A turn right on the 17, which is officially known as the Trans-Canada Highway, and we are on our way to Montreal or thereabouts.

Canada

Not too far west of Copper Cliff a quick stop was made for a man selling fresh wild blueberries roadside. The hand-picked wild blueberries are expensive. We are doubtful until the gentleman sitting inside the van offers us a sample. These are, without a doubt, the best blueberries we have ever tasted. We bought the small container to the far left in the photo for about $13 U.S.; the larger container near his foot was $115 Canadian or $100 U.S..

If you should ever find yourself in Canada in the middle of July and don’t know where to pick them yourself, stop at one of the many blueberry stands and try them. Be sure they are the wild, small berries, though. Yummy!

Canada

A foreign country with things outside the American experience is a refreshing blast of excitement. It’s been ten years since Caroline and I moved to the United States, and during that time, we’ve not been back to Europe, I’m getting a small hint of that European aesthetic as we drive along.

Canada

Near Verner, a sign catches my eye, forcing a U-turn. It’s advertising goat cheese. At a local farm from a husband and wife team, we pick up some of their garlic-herb goat cheese – yummy, again.

The town of Mattawa, which is part of the Algonquin Nation, has a trading post, but they don’t want our blueberries in exchange for furs; oh well. We still managed to leave with gifts for others back home. In Rolphton we are entering the Province of Quebec and buy bread and some other stuff, sweet guilt. Pembroke offers ice cream and butter, which we needed for the bread. Somewhere further down the road, we stopped next to a plot where an elderly guy was selling strawberries that we got to pick ourselves.

Canada

Things are starting to crumble, but my mom’s appetite is not one of them. The near-constant grazing still isn’t enough, and a sign advertising walleye was enough to have us pulling off for more food.

As we were approaching Quebec, my mother started grumbling about the signs in French.

Canada

I am being forced to hear about her utter and total dislike of all things French. It doesn’t matter if it’s French Canadians or the people of France; they are all simply horrible, arrogant people. I’m starting to grind my teeth as there is no talking reason with her. When my mom was a teenager, at one of her first jobs as a waitress, a French Canadian couple visiting Buffalo, New York, stiffed her for a tip, and since that moment, she has always hated French people of any kind.

Canada

I’m seething and starting to resent the person I’m in the car with. Her pettiness exploding like this for something that happened 40 years ago is beyond what I can accept, and I wish she’d simply shut up. She’s as relentless about sharing her disdain as she is about eating everything in sight. I’m reaching a breaking point where her childlike anger starts, triggering me to turn around and race back to Arizona. Fortunately, I know my anger needs to be pocketed. I only wish I’d known about this earlier so I could have avoided bringing her this far north.

Canada

I’m finished and just want to shut down. I start looking for a motel early so I can get off the road and find some time to talk with Caroline, vent with her, and have her calm me down. Motel Eddy in St. Andre D’Argenteuil on the Ottawa River is only $43, including a TV and small fridge. In our respective rooms, I’m able to escape her agitation that is verging on Tourette’s. We’d managed to ignore politics, religion, and race until this point in our trip, which are all known flashpoints in our relationship. She would be the first to point out that I’d obviously been overly influenced by my time growing up in the land of fruits and nuts, California. There are times that I nearly hate my mother; this is one of those.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 5

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Michigan

The jury will have to remain out on the charm of Charlevoix, as we haven’t spent enough time here to make any kind of real assessment. One thing that is abundantly apparent is why the wealthy with giant yachts love the place: there are covered yacht parking spots with beautiful penthouses built right above them.

We needed about an hour to get back up to St. Ignace, arriving 10 minutes before the next ferry was departing for Mackinac Island. The rideover is fast and smooth as Lake Huron is glassy calm. Skies are slightly overcast, with a little blue seen here and there.

Michigan

The island isn’t packed yet. We are still early on this Tuesday, a day before the season really kicks off tomorrow. Just why Wednesday, July 13, holds special status for the day when the crowds become truly heavy is missed by me.  Having arrived so early, I feel like we’re gaining a good sense of what the island might be like at daybreak or after visitors leave in the evening, and the place is all yours. With so few people here right now, we head over to the horse-drawn carriage tour before long lines start to form.

No motor-powered vehicles are allowed on the island, with the exceptions of a police car, an ambulance, a fire truck, and golf carts which are not allowed off the golf course. Bicycles, horses, and feet are the methods of transport on Mackinac. Our two horses pulling this 5,000 pounds of cart, driver, and 16 passengers are Clydesdales. Beautiful horses until they pass wind. With the exertion of pulling so much weight uphill, the gas billows out, and this isn’t just based on observations of our two horses. Later, when we took the Boeing 747 of horse carriages, a 40-passenger 3-horse wagon, it became obvious to us that a diet heavy in alfalfa and heavy uphill exercise alleviates bloating problems.

Michigan

Very quickly, we learn of the downside to visiting this island, prices are on the high side. $18 each for roundtrip passage to the island. $18 apiece for the horse tour. $5 each for viewing the butterfly exhibit. To visit the fort is another $9.50, renting a bicycle is about $6 an hour, and to walk on the veranda of the old stately hotel is $10. All of a sudden, this is more expensive than Disneyland, and we haven’t bought a bite to eat or picked up souvenirs, fudge, postcards, or a cold drink.

Michigan

Well, seeing that I’m such a penny-pinching bastard regarding lodging, I guess I can give in and live it up, as though all this traveling wasn’t the epitome of living it up anyway. The butterfly sanctuary here is beautiful, if not a bit crowded, by the time we got here. I can’t imagine what the coming weekend might be like if their official season doesn’t actually kick off until tomorrow.

John Wise in Michigan

Unlike the bears of Yellowstone, where they want visitors to avoid coming into contact with those man-eating beasts, there were no warnings regarding the butterflies. As they landed on me, I hope this proves once and for all to my wife back home that it’s true I am made of sugar.

Michigan

What is this giant hole, you ask? The representation of the one in my heart because Caroline is not here right now.

The real answer is that Arch Rock was formed back when Lake Superior, Lake Huron, and Lake Michigan were one giant lake system called Nipissing Great Lakes. That lake system was created about 7,500 years ago when retreating glaciers and their melting ice pooled at a level high enough to carve this arch out of the limestone.

Michigan

This is on the other side of the hole, looking out at Lake Huron. Time for lunch.

Michigan

We ate at the Oyster Bar and Pub with mom and I having the open-faced white fish sandwich grilled with a lemon caper marinade – yummy. Mom also had the raw oysters, which I abstained from as my previous tastings haven’t brought me into the oyster world (yet). There are more fudge shops than you can shake a stick at, including one where President Ford bought fudge – okay, I guess. Three hours of visiting proves to be enough of Mackinac Island; we will take Harbor Springs any day over Mackinac.

Canada

Back in a steaming hot car. I should mention that Arizona weather seems to have followed us on this trip. In Kansas, we were seeing 98-degree temperatures; in Minnesota, it was 94, and today, in northern Michigan, it’s 93 with 85% humidity.

Into Canada via Sault Ste. Marie in the province of Ontario. I’m traveling with trepidation while I have my I.D. and a copy of my birth certificate, and mom has her passport; passing back into the United States these days is a daring gamble that will, at the least, infuriate most travelers. Getting into Canada went smoothly; god help us when we want to leave.

Canada

Surprise, surprise, the south of this corner of Canada looks a lot like northern Wisconsin or Michigan. I was expecting bells and whistles, or at least Mounties and Inuit. Being ahead of schedule, we are now chopping up the itinerary as it was written and are in full improvisation mode. In Espanola, we turn south, and before getting to the destination that was originally considered for our overnight, a sign on the side of the road entices Mom with a pan-fried perch. A couple of miles down a dirt road, we pull up to the Lang Lake Resort.

Karen Goff in Canada

While we are here for the perch, I ask about a room; they have a cabin available. I ask about air conditioning; I’m told to open windows and that there’s a small fan. About to leave, he asks if I want to see it. I waffle about my mom needing A/C as a cranky mom is well, known as Karen. Okay, we will at least take a look. Our car follows his car up the gravel road, down the gravel road, through the potholes, not far but far enough for me to start complaining to Mom that this isn’t where we should stay. A moment later he pulls up to a cabin right on the water’s edge here at Lang Lake. He directs our attention to our own private dock.

He opens the cabin that is hot, but it’s a great little place. The view is great. The amenities are great. What about dinner? Sure, how about 8:00? We will take it. Till then, we mosey down to the dock and kick off our shoes to dip our toes into the warm water that feels a bit chilly to us. After only a few seconds, the water feels great. The sun is getting lower in the sky, and the cliffs are beginning to glow red.

Canada

Mom has a half glass of wine before we walk over to the restaurant for dinner and to check-in. Dinner is on an outdoor deck overlooking the lake just below us. Strangely, not a mosquito is zipping about. A Russian family operates the resort and the restaurant; the owner’s son is our waiter tonight.

If you are starting to think this is an eating marathon, well, eating was a primary motivator for this trip. Pizza in Buffalo, New York specifically was the draw, more about that as we reach Buffalo.

The appetizer is homemade pierogi with sour cream, outstanding. Our main course is Perch, but we have asked to substitute the fries with potato latkes, and again, outstanding. For dessert, we are both having homemade crepes stuffed with cottage cheese topped with strawberries for Mom and chocolate and caramel for mine. We pay the bill, pay for the room, tip our waiter, and within minutes, are sitting on the dock again with feet dangling in the water.

Canada

The gods of the mosquito swarm have unleashed the vermin after offering a dinner respite that was appreciated. For their kindness of sparing us earlier, I allowed two particularly thin specimens an extra moment of engorgement before running for the safety of the screened porch.

At midnight, it’s still hot in the cabin. I took a shower in the hopes of cooling off. I only turned on the cold water, which was a BIG MISTAKE. The water only flowed out of the pipes due to the crazy pressure behind it otherwise, this might have been a snowmaking machine. My head was burning from the cold, but I was cooler, even if only for a minute or two.

Tomorrow, we continue across southern Canada, enjoying the kilometer signs, bilingual English/French traffic signage, the occasional Celsius reading, and gas priced in Canadian dollars per liter. Oh, and breakfast reservations on the deck over Lang Lake are set for 8:00 a.m. Today is the worst for missing Caroline. No phones out here and no cellular coverage mean no goodnight call, meaning more missing her.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 4

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Michigan

Never before have my mother or I had to deal with water that smelled worse. The strong odor of sulfur hits your nose, and then the iron in the water splashing on your lips tastes of blood. Our showers were taken quickly and felt mostly ineffectual. Bottled water was necessary for brushing our teeth.

Stepping outside, though, was a dream with blue skies and not a hint of wind, making for a picture-perfect reflection in the lake in front of our lodging. We are later than usual getting onto the road, seeing we slept in, so it’s already after 9:00 as we continue our march eastward.

Michigan

Out in the middle of nowhere, all we can do is drive, admiring the trees, flowers, and the winding road taking us over the Michigan landscape here in summer.

Michigan

In Marquette, Michigan, we reach Lake Superior again. No wonder this lake feels like an ocean; it’s 350 miles long by 160 miles wide, making it impossible to see the other side no matter the direction you look. A little turned around, we quickly righted our path and ended up at a small corner of the bay. We’re near an old platform once used for filling ore into barges headed to steel mills that dotted the Great Lakes in former times.

A local fish shop looks like it has the potential to offer breakfast. It turns out they sell fresh raw fish and nothing else. The proprietor suggests a place around the corner and up the hill called the Nordic Inn, which turns out to work fine, satisfying our morning hunger attack.

Michigan

Passing the Bahrman Potato Warehouse in Skandia, Michigan I needed to stop for this photo due to the heavy sag of the roofs. It wasn’t just the state approaching collapse that I wanted to note but the fact that it was a potato barn, and in my limited thoughts about growing spuds, I’d not thought of them outside of Idaho. Such is the effectiveness of marketing and branding as Michigan is known for cars and Motown, or can you think of anything else?

Michigan

It may as well be summertime in California and Florida all year round, as the constant buzz of activity and throngs of people suggest that the crowds are on vacation there every day. Here we are moving over some incredibly beautiful landscapes in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan in the middle of summer, and there is nobody out here. This northern part of the Midwest doesn’t seem to draw in that many visitors, which is perplexing. Maybe lakes and forests only hold deep appeal to those who dwell in deserts.

Karen Goff and John Wise in Michigan

With the crazy pace of driving now slowing, we’ll hopefully take more opportunities to step out of the car together to experience the places we are passing through. Here we are on day four already, and this is the first selfie of my mother and me standing in front of Lake Michigan. Over the coming 12 days, there will be very few photos of my mother, which is a bit tragic as this was supposed to be something more than a simple sightseeing trip to New York. At 57 years old, my mom does not have much stamina for physical activity, which includes simply walking. Even 11 years ago, when Caroline and I were in America from Germany to get married, she ended up not being at our midnight ceremony on the Las Vegas strip due to being too tired when she was only 46 years old.

Michigan

I wish I was here with Caroline as there would be no doubt that we’d walk out to the Manistique East Breakwater Lighthouse there in the distance. Instead, I have to put it in the catalog of places to return to.

Michigan

I did have the opportunity to visit the Seul Choix Point Lighthouse in Mueller Township, and while I got a panorama from up the tower, it didn’t turn out as nicely as I’d hoped, so there’s this view.

Michigan

It took us until late afternoon to pass from the north of the Upper Peninsula to the south and over to St. Ignace, Michigan, where we are now. It’s too late in the day for the ferry to Mackinac Island, which we feel won’t give us enough time to visit, with the last ferry returning to the mainland at 9:00 p.m.

Michigan

Putting off Mackinac until tomorrow we decide to head down the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. Over the 5-mile-long bridge to the mainland, let’s see what we can find.

A tip earlier in the day suggested we stop to eat at the Legs Inn Restaurant in Cross Village if we were in the area. Things didn’t work out timing-wise to do so, but it certainly becomes a place to bring Caroline. Another recommendation just beyond Cross Village suggested we drive the M-119 scenic road. It was about to deliver a week’s worth of oohs and aahs.

Michigan

The road is a single lane with barely enough room for two cars to pass. Even a separating line wouldn’t fit on this narrow path as nobody could stay on their side of the road. This is the Tunnel of Trees road. It twists and turns, shaded by the canopy of leaves that blot out the sky. As we enter clearings, we have the feeling of having left a movie theatre with our eyes needing to adjust to the bright light.

Off to our right and occasionally visible through the thicket is Lake Michigan. On our left are some incredibly gorgeous homes buried in the woods. The sun is getting low in the sky, with an amber glow developing over the lake. Neither Mom nor I can believe we almost changed the itinerary to skip this part of the trip with the idea we could instead make it all the way to Maine. We are both mesmerized by the incredible place in which we have found ourselves.

Michigan

And then it gets even better. The town of Harbor Springs sits on Little Traverse Bay and must be one of the most beautiful towns my mother, and I have ever seen in America. We agree that Telluride, Colorado; Jackson Hole, Wyoming; Pt Reyes or Big Sur, California; Ketchum, Idaho, and Bar Harbor, Maine, can’t hold a candle to the extraordinary combination of elements that make this a top location for both of us.

Michigan

We drive right through Petoskey on the hunt for a motel, though we take a quick pause at a scenic overlook to grab a shot of the sunset. I should point out that this far north, the sun doesn’t actually set until after 9:30 p.m., so we know if we putz around looking at sunsets, it will be 11:30 before we check into a motel.

Drats, turned around, a wrong turn, and finally, we are in Charlevoix but not able to find a quaint waterside room. It is 10:30 when we open our door. Charlevoix in the dark, looks to hold a lot of promise for the morning, so it’s time for me to close this chapter and get to sleep. It’s midnight.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 3

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Cozy Rest Motel in Luverne, Minnesota

Up and gone early again but not early enough. We are 3 hours behind the itinerary. Breakfast had to wait until we were in Marshall, Minnesota. Normally, I’d avoid Perkins, but they have the basics, and there weren’t many choices out this way.

This land of 10,000 lakes is a bit shy by my count here on State Road 23. We pass a few lakes here and there, but we are driving by a lot more corn. The prairies seem to be primarily farmed for beans and corn, though a smattering of wheat can be spotted here and there.

Minnesota

The ground becomes hillier, and there are more trees, but we’ll be halfway up the state before dense forest replaces farmlands. As I look out at this landscape, I can’t help but think of Caroline and what her interest would be in stopping to admire the view. I don’t have the impression that my mother much cares one way or the other, but even though she’s never been to Minnesota before, she’s already seen enough and is ready for the next thing.

Minnesota

While signs point to lakes on side roads, Mom is more excited about seeing Lake Superior, so we press on.

Minnesota

We passed from Duluth, Minnesota, into Superior, Wisconsin, where the call for something to eat couldn’t be ignored any longer. Lunch wouldn’t be complete until Mom satisfied her craving for frozen custard, so we stopped for two cones. Onward to the lake.

Minnesota

Stops along the random smaller lakes are few, but I have to capture some kind of photographic record to share with Caroline so she can dream with me about our return someday to these beautiful lands.

Minnesota

There’s so much to see along the road but so little time to explore it. Our lack of spontaneity due to expectations of places we must visit in Buffalo is making us chase over the landscape as though the journey to our destination is of little consequence. I have to give credit to my mother-in-law that no matter how often we want to stop to check out the details of where we are, she’s always a good sport and happy to learn about the local environment.

Minnesota

In the distance, we get a glimpse of Lake Superior where these iron-rich waters are flowing into.

Karen Goff in Michigan at Lake Superior 2005

Just north of Herbster, Wisconsin we stop to dip our toes into Lake Superior. Probably because of the heavy snow and harsh winters that the region has a reputation for, I was expecting the lake to be on the icy side. Here on a small beach only a few feet wide and bordered by a grassy area with some trees, we are offered nice views and a short walk next to the warm water of a lake that looks a lot like an ocean. The major difference between this and the Pacific is our need to remain vigilant against mosquitoes, flies, ticks, and the myriad other flying or jumping pests instead of sleeper waves and sharks.

Minnesota

We’ve been on State Route 13 South, which is actually traveling north up toward the Apostle Island National Lakeshore drive before turning south near the top of the peninsula. That, though, will not be where we will be going today as the itinerary is little more than a document of general direction. So we cut off on a side road that will deliver us back to civilization where food can be found because, believe it or not, Mom is thinking about food and doesn’t want to be late for dinner.

We think we’ve figured out that Armor-All contains a sugar that’s behind the reason why thousands of flies swarm the car when we stop. This is no exaggeration, just one tire had more than 50 flies on it in under a minute of stopping. All the plastic surfaces are attracting them, too. Mom tried spraying DEET bug spray on the car, but it seems these flies are impervious to its poison, or they’ve learned to thrive on it. I suppose if I’d simply not stop in these inconvenient places to take photos we wouldn’t have to suffer the bugs. I’m wondering how in the world I agreed to do this.

Michigan

Skipping the Apostle Islands, we are soon passing through Ashland, keeping our eye open for something that looks appealing for dinner. Our stop has conditions that stipulate the place must feature walleye. Well, we’re not seeing it, which is obviously frustrating, Mom. Bitterly, we drive on. Finally, there next to the road is a small Inn that seems promising.

I walk in to check the menu as Mom waits in the car, not able to be bothered because she’s certain my hunch is wrong. I’m greeted by Mike, the owner of the Kimball Inn here in Hurley, Wisconsin, near the Michigan Stateline, who tells me that beyond sandwiches, BBQ, and burgers, they have fish, starting his list with Walleye. I tell him he needn’t continue as that’s what my waiting mother wants. Mom is fetched, and we sit down to a great fish dinner. Neither mom nor I are the slightest bit disappointed, nor are we still hungry.

Michigan

Mike suggested we take the more scenic M28 across Michigan instead of the two we’d been traveling on, and before we knew it, we were entering the Eastern Time Zone. We are two hours further east when I pull into The Edgewater Motel in Three Lakes, Michigan, for a lakeside room costing a mere $43, including tax. I’m exhausted after so little sleep over the past three days and 2,000 miles. No time for dessert and nowhere to find something anyway. Goodnight.