After the farm and its outbuildings, the next thing we saw was this canning place. I assumed, wrongly, as many assumptions go, that they would have canned fish. Instead, this was all about cherries. A building for canning cherries, located about as close to Lake Michigan as possible. Not bad.
These days, this is a maritime museum and incredibly, I didn't do more than a glance into the windows. Having no internet connection, I didn't quite understand the significance of the place. Oops, my loss. It's quite tiny and across the street is what was both a hotel and boarding house, where my attention was diverted. I didn't take photos there and I have no idea why. But peering in its windows, it looks like they got out the furniture and just closed the doors. Pots in the kitchen, ashes in the one fireplace we could see. I would love to run a place like this. In summer.
|Warehouse turned cannery turned maritime museum. Oh, if those walls could talk.|
|Jeff, Karen and The One Who Must Be Obeyed. The sand is super soft, with many rocks strewn about and at the shore edge, but no more so than many of our beaches at home.|
|Slightly challenged, I did put my toes in the water and it was, very surprisingly, not ice cube cold. It was 3 mil wetsuit cold though and I wasn't going to check that out.|
|Somehow, I can fly and drive and end up at the same spot. My inner compass rocks.|
|A stout pier once stood for the boats loaded with cherries to deliver to the cannery, along with other supplies no doubt.|
|One of those boats. These, for me, aren't a pretty boat style, but all you have to do is listen to Gordon Lightfoot sing his song of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald to know that plying these lakes was and is a dangerous game and whatever design does the job best is the one to use; to hell with pretty.|
|The dunes here are stunning, some of them 450 feet above the water. They are a tremendous tourist draw and their protection has been well done, with one or two sets of dunes wide open to a climbing public and the rest, while not closed, obviously not as used and well covered with sea grasses and whatever trees grow in sand.|
|Another generous man, Pierce Stocking - who gets a 10 on the score of awesome names - gave the state another huge swath of property that he'd bought from D.H. Day for selective logging purposes. His gift, so that 'everyman' could enjoy it, is now a part of the National Park Service land. While some of those corporate barons of old pulled some pretty nasty tricks to increase their wealth, they also appreciated the beauty of our country in a way we'll not see again in my lifetime, where raping the land seems to be the call of the crocodiles of fortune.|
|The D.H. Day farm seen from an overlook on the Pierce Stocking scenic drive with the lake beyond. I had to keep reminding myself this was not the sea.|
|Here's his story. Thanks, Pierce Stocking!|
|These deer only meandered away from us, stopping on occasion to look back.|
|It's hard to grasp how huge these dunes arem and how high, but I tried.|
|The moon was two days from full.|
|Heading into Glen Arbor for a bite to eat|
|At Jeff's suggestion, our destination for dinner would be Art's Tavern. We headed into that historical place, where quickly, one of the
appetizers was calling my name, loudly. Smoked trout - how or why would I
resist smoked trout? - cheeses and a brined selection of olives, capers
and baby gherkins.. I thought, as an app, it would be more of a tasting
plate. Instead it was enough to share with the table and still be full
with some left over. No, not the trout. It was |
|Sunset from the porch, the first night|
|A sign you won't see on Flamenco Beach.|
We'd already seen so much beauty and barely left a few mile area. This new day, there was much to see, with Jeff as voluntary tour director. That's next.
Have a free from fretting Friday. Do something fabulously favorable.