Mackinac Island is a special place, beyond the fudge and the Grand Hotel (although those add to its joy), to be avoided in the summer months overrun with mobs of tourists. May on the Island is lovely and fresh, but I recalled autumnal joys and wanted to experience those again after many years.
Headed up through the middle of the state with a stop in Marshall, still my favorite Michigan town not on the Lake. They were in the middle of SkeletonFest, a month-long celebration of Halloween, and every business has some sort of skeleton in costume or other spooky tableau. Visited the wonderful New Story bookstore, Grandma’s Toys & Treats just for fun (and a Triceratops ring–if you have to ask. . .) and enjoyed a nice coffeehouse lunch. Ah, but so many miles to go! Up and around Lansing, then a straight shot north on Highway 127. The terrain gets hillier after awhile, the trees less deciduous. Beautiful. Clare, Grayling, Gaylord–been through all at one time or another. Stopped just to walk around at a beautiful roadside park north of Gaylord and greeted autumn.
Then onward until. . . Mighty Mac in sight!
Mackinaw City was a tiny tacky tourist town–but not without a certain charm–when I first began coming up here so many years ago. Now it is a much larger tourist trap that has spread westward and southward, well peppered with chain hotels and restaurants. As usual I ignored these and headed to a motel in which I’d always dreamed of staying. Turned out not to be expensive as I’d supposed, despite its prime location practically under the Mackinac Bridge! Comfortable and cozy, the Riviera Motel, probably dating to 1960 or so, lies sandwiched between the town beach to the east and the state park to the west. I hope they are not going anywhere soon. Checked in and went out walking in the night, alone with the Lake–or more accurately, the Straits–and that big beautiful bridge.
With morning had come rain but already diminishing, and a fabulous breakfast at Darrow’s, a family restaurant at the west end of Mackinaw City that has been there forever–or at least since 1957. I remember eating there with my mom some 30-odd years ago. Busy, cheery, a place where the waitresses call you “honey.” And that’s just fine with me. The eggs were so fresh it seemed they must have been gathered that morning.
Then it was off to the ferry! There is now only one company, after years when one could choose from three different ferries. Happily, there was scarcely any wait since they were running every fifteen minutes even this late in the season. It is still Shepler’s now, but a name change goes into effect next year.
I sat on the top deck to catch earliest glimpses of the Island’s landmarks I know so well, an invigorating crossing as the sun slowly broke through the clouds, highlighting the Mighty Mac and the Grand Hotel. What a joy to see it all again! The day was fresh and breezy; the main street was bustling but not overly crowded. I had found booking accommodations on the Island surprisingly difficult this time; it would seem October is no longer “off season” and prices in general had risen considerably. At the lower end of the main street, the bright yellow Windermere Hotel, originally built as a family “cottage” but converted to a hotel in 1904, was a place I had always wanted to try. The location is lovely–happily, close to the ferry dock–and overlooks the beach adjacent to the library.
Oh, with what to begin? The Lake, of course, then horses, some close encounter of the equine kind. Driving a small carriage past the Grand Hotel and through the woods is such a joy. As a child I had learned to ride on draft horses, my ankles barely dangling over their sides; how I love these beautiful creatures.
The day was so lovely, what next? Food on the Island is pricey, but some places less than others, usually the establishments that don’t sell liquor. A walk along the length of the street, admiring the buildings (closing my eyes to the tacky tourist t-shirts and souvenirs) and visiting
the recreated missionary bark chapel at the foot of the Fort, across from the historic Trinity Episcopal Church. SO much history here!
Following the endless flowers, which on the Island are larger and brighter than anywhere else, I walked on to Ste. Anne’s, the storied parish church; the current building dates to 1878. How glorious it stood in the autumn sun! A slow walk back to the hotel, reveling in Island time.
The next morning, just as gloriously sunny, there was time for a walk along the Lake, admiring the giant rosehips–and a few late blossoms–that thrive in this environment, along with the late
nineteenth century cottages, most of which are still privately owned. I noticed a few were already wrapped up to get through the harsh winter ahead. A few minutes relaxing on the Windermere’s porch, then off to the ferry, as always with a little sense of loss, but with more Michigan adventures to come!
I never leave Mackinaw City without stopping at the bakery, sometimes for lunch, sometimes just to get some yummies for the road. It was so crowded that lunch was not an option, so it was back to Darrow’s, an excellent choice for lunch as well.
Headed down old 31 to Petoskey to meet with the folks from Freshwater Future, a nonprofit whose mission is clean water and water justice in the Great Lakes region. Good people! We talked long and laughed a lot.
With a brief Lake encounter near Charlevoix, it was on to the charming town of Frankfort for the night, just in time for sunset.
The motel was one built in the 1950s, jazzed up with some retro fittings and higher-priced charm. Comfortable enough.
In the morning it was back to the beach to greet the Lake and the lighthouse (a campaign is underway to restore it), then breakfast in tiny Elberta in a cafe beloved by the locals.
How lovely it was, meandering through the beautiful rolling orchards and fields toward Pentwater, but dismaying to find the road south closed.
Still, eventually made it to Mears and beyond to Cherry Point, always a must stop. Proprietor and noted regional author Barbara E. Bull, with whom I have been acquainted for some decades now (!) was not in, but I hope to catch her later this year. As always, I picked up some of their very special trail mix and a couple of (mmm!) cherry turnovers.
Then another 20 miles or south for lunch in Montague at Lipka’s, run by the pharmacist’s daughter. Again, another must stop for decades, this cafe was once a drugstore owned by the proprietor’s father. She kept the soda fountain and many of the old drugstore items are on display. Great food, and definitely the best ice cream sodas in Michigan.
275 miles from home, southward bound, with a stop at Dee’s Farm Market, of course, for mums and apples and a pumpkin. One more stop to say farewell to the Lake until we meet again.
