When in Michigan, You Must Take a Flying Leap Down a Sand Dune

 

We thought we were probably lost. There were lots of little roads between Traverse City and Sleeping Bear Dunes. Lots of turns onto unlabeled streets, lots of winding country roads, lots of farms and vineyards and orchards full of cherry trees. And when you type a national park into your GPS, you're never quite sure what part of the park it's actually going to take you to. Will you arrive safely at the visitor center, or at a fire tower fifty miles away? The main entrance gate, or the post office where the park gets its mail?

Since we didn't know what to expect, and weren't quite sure where we were going, then, it was even more magical to be driving down yet another little road and suddenly see, to our left, the largest wall of sand I've ever imagined.

It was huge. Incongruously huge. Game of Thrones The Wall huge. Absolutely impossible, except that there it was.

Obviously, we had to climb it!

Okay, climbing a giant sand dune was a little bit like slogging through hell below our feet. But above us?

Only sky.

And look at that view from the top of the climb!

We lounged in place for a while, me recovering my resting heart rate, and the kids playing in the biggest and best sandbox in the Midwest:

Can you imagine living around here and having small children? I'd have taken my two here every single day!

When we'd originally set off, my words had been something like "OMG look at that giant dune let's climb it!" But after deciding that maybe I wasn't having a heart attack, after all, I started to look around me and realized--we weren't at the top at ALL! There was a whole other HIGHER dune just ahead!

We must climb it!

Notice in these photos the concession to Mom's fragility embodied in Will having taken over the Mom Day Pack. Now, Will was the Keeper of Water and Snacks and First Aid Kit and Sunscreen and Bug Spray, and Mom just had to get her own butt up that last dune, the distant figures of her children literally running up that mountain of sand egging her on:

But what did I see when I finally reached the top?

Omg. Another, higher dune.

Must. Climb. It.

And from the top of THAT dune?

Nope. I give up.

Later, when we finally found the visitor center and picked up park maps, I'd learn that the trail we were on was something like three miles round-trip, a distance that we were not prepared to hike with zero prep. If I had this trip to do again I'd have us pack lunches and make a day of just this Dunes Trail, but for three people with just a water bottle each, not even all of us wearing shoes, this was our turn-around point.

Now, to enjoy the lovely walk back!

Although most of us ran most of the way:

And there may have even been some leaping involved!

You probably can't tell, ahem, but the leaping was my favorite part. 

After sandwiches eaten in the delightful air conditioning of the car, I decided it was time to figure out exactly what we were supposed to be doing and seeing in Sleeping Bear, not to mention pay our entrance fee, so Google Maps kindly agreed to direct us to the visitor center. 

Twenty-five dollars later, I had a nice, big fold-out map of Sleeping Bear Dunes to peruse while the kids worked through their Junior Ranger books:

After that, my Junior Rangers and I took the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. The kids weren't super impressed with most of the stops--I mean, not after a whole morning playing on the marvelous and mind-bending Dune Climb!--but this stop was worth it all:

Despite the dire warnings--

Is that exhausted climber... vomiting?!?

--people really were walking all the way down this dune--

--and then crawling back up. The kids and I hiked to an overlook where we joined a vocal community of observers of these intrepid adventurers, rooting for our favorites, discussing what we'd do differently were we in their places (god forbid!), offering advice and criticisms, and cheering every time someone finally finished their long crawl back to the top:

Oh, and we also admired the view, of course:

I had anticipated that Sleeping Bear Dunes would be fun and pleasant, but I was shocked at HOW fun it was, and just how unspeakably beautiful. I'd happily spend weeks back there, rolling down dunes and crawling back up them and lying like a lizard in the warm sand and admiring the clear, blue water. 

And at the end of every day, I'd do like I did on this day and drive my kids back down those windy country roads, past cherry orchards and vineyards, to buy ourselves ice cream from Moomers. 

I'm pretty sure the cow who made my chocolate caramel nut ice cream is in this photo!

And here's my ice cream, in a chocolate-dipped waffle cone:

Will had a banana split:

And Syd had a worms and dirt sundae:

As Will's time as a child in my home grows very short, I often think with longing about her younger years, when I so often felt overwhelmed and disconnected. I fantasize about time traveling back to our old house by the park and ringing the doorbell, and when an exhausted, bored me comes to the door, I put her to bed with a book and a snack, and I spend the day playing with a very small Willow and Sydney. I drink in their tiny selves, and I enjoy every single second with them. I memorize again all their little features and gestures, and I don't look away for a moment.

My big kids spend their days mostly going about their own business. They have schoolwork and jobs, friends and hobbies, and I am no longer the planet they orbit around; they are no longer my ever-present shadows. I'm not exhausted and overwhelmed by them anymore (or rather, I'm mostly not...), these independent, capable kids that can now mow the lawn and do the laundry and read to themselves and even help me drive the eight hours from Traverse City, Michigan, back to our home. But I miss them, so much, now that I have the space to miss them, and I'm going to miss them so much more when one of them lives in Ohio. And because I miss them in the day-to-day, I cherish these trips with them even more. Mind you, half of them griped most of the time, and both of them griped some of the time. I thought about bailing on the whole adventure more than once, and when that happened only the fact that I wouldn't get any refund on that super expensive cottage kept me on the road. 

But sometimes, every now and then, both kids would be smiling at once. Both kids would be having a marvelous time running down a dune, or sitting at the top of a hill talking to each other about how slow and sad my hiking is, or eating a dish of ice cream the size of their heads. We would be looking at something beautiful together, and they'd be saying how beautiful it is, in the next breath mocking some hapless soul trying to crawl back up a sand mountain so he didn't have to pay $3,000 for the air rescue. I cherished those precious moments with my grown-up Willow and my nearly-grown Sydney. I drank in their funny, clever, quirky selves, and I enjoyed every single second with them. I memorized all over again their changing features and their familiar gestures.

And I did not look away for a moment.

Day 1: Presque Isle Lighthouses

Day 2: Mackinac City

Day 3: Searching for Petoskey Stones

When in Michigan, You Must Search for Petoskey Stones

 

But first, doughnuts!

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The kids and I walked to Mackinaw Bakery from our hotel, on the way playing the very important game of Whose Beautiful Beach House Would Each of Us Settle For/Let's Criticize Million-Dollar Real Estate While We Pretend Like Our Own Actual House Isn't Literal Garbage. Syd's favorite house is apparently worth 1.3 million dollars, while Will's is upwards of $750,000. I can't seem to shake my trash taste, however, because the house I want is only worth $300,000. It had a nice view, though, and I can always pop over to Syd's mansion whenever I feel like an evening of luxury!

Following Google Map's walking directions instead of driving directions must have thrown us off a little, because somehow, loudly chatting away to each other like huge tourists, we all managed to walk into... the back door of the bakery, I guess? We just walked straight into... a room, clearly a restaurant with tables and chairs and people sitting at those tables and chairs and chatting quietly not like huge tourists, but there was no signage, no hostess or waitstaff, no kitchen or counter. Just people. In a room.

I stopped and tried to get my bearings, the kids bumped into my back and peered around me but had no insights to offer, and we essentially just stood there, blinking in confusion and mild distress until somebody took pity on us and called out that the bakery was around the corner. And indeed, there was a doorway at the back of the room, and it did turn out to lead into a lovely, large bakery, with picture windows showing the parking area outside (oops!), and a million delightful doughnuts and breakfast sandwiches and coffee drinks to choose from.

Hallelujah for the apple fritters, the likes of which I have not seen since I lived in Texas 26 years ago! 

Considering the fact that we all dithered over the doughnut selection, and placed an inconveniently large order that included doughnuts and breakfast sandwiches and drinks both hot and cold, and I spilled some of my iced latte on the floor trying to get the straw in, and Will ordered a peach and mango smoothie and the guy at the counter said they were out of peaches so she ordered a mango smoothie but they were out of mangos, too, I'm pretty sure we were posthumously given the Worst Customers of the Day award, but eventually we emerged unscathed through the front doors, walked back to the hotel, and enjoyed one more breakfast with a beautiful view of the Straits of Mackinac.

Through our hotel window, I mean. Ain't nobody eating breakfast outside with a swarm of midges.

 After breakfast, we packed up and hit the M-119 for the scenic drive along the coast and through the Tunnel of Trees to Petoskey.

The kids were unimpressed by the Tunnel of Trees, but trying to impress a teenager is a sucker's game at the best of times.

Syd was also extremely unimpressed by Petoskey, but to be fair, Petoskey held some of her least-favorite things, including a sky full of sun, a beach full of rocks, absolutely no wi-fi, but lots and lots and LOTS of spiders.

Welcome to Spider Beach: Part Two!

Will and I, on the other hand, were in absolute hog heaven at Sunset Park. We immediately settled in and commenced our search for Petoskey stones.

I felt like I'd done plenty of research on how and where to find Petoskey stones. I know that when they're dry, they resemble limestone (which the kids and I are WELL familiar with!). I know that when they're wet, you can see the corral pattern. 

What I did not know, though, was how easily I'd confuse them with Charlevoix stones. The first few Charlevoix stones I found, I could sort of tell that they weren't quite what I was looking for. The more Charlevoix stones we found, though, the more I convinced myself that surely these must be what I wanted, because they were what we kept finding!

Good thing Charlevoix stones are also really cool, because we ended up with dozens of them--

--and, as far as I can tell before we tumble them all, no Petoskey stones. I am SO BUMMED!

But here's the landscape that we were working with:

So challenging! I wet a ton of stones, and spent a lot of time wading, as well, but never found anything other than horn corrals, brachiopods, and Charlevoix stones:

What I'd really have liked would have been to visit several different sites. I've been told that hiking away down the beach helps, too, as the area gets less picked over the further you go from more heavily trafficked areas. Will would have been totally down for spending the entire day rockhounding with me, but Syd had already spent most of her time at Spider Beach: Part Two curled up under her hoodie on the rocks, desperately trying to tune out her urge to murder me in my sleep by listening to her music, only getting up every now and then to shake off the spiders and settle herself again even more miserably. I almost managed to convince myself that she could just wait in the car while Will and I kept rockhounding, but I really do want her to still talk to me when she's all grown up, so sadly, we admitted defeat in our Petoskey stone hunt and drove on to Traverse City.

I didn't really want to stay in Traverse City, but it was the only place within driving distance of Sleeping Bear Dunes that I could find us a place to sleep that was only 200% of my budget for accomodations on that leg of the trip. Ahem. I also don't really ever want to go BACK to Traverse City, if for no other reason than that the traffic was terrible, but somehow the kids and I managed to fight every red light and confusing turn lane and left turn into cross traffic and unannounced street closing to get back and forth to the grocery store (where score, they stocked Traverse City Whiskey Co. American Cherry, so that's Matt's souvenir all sorted!), so that later we could do this:

Our very wee cottage was just steps from the beach, and included all the tools that we needed to cook hot dogs over the fire. 

Roasted hot dogs tasted SO GOOD after three days of peanut butter and jelly!

Extendable roasting sticks is such a smart idea, and I want a set of my own!

I sampled some of Matt's whiskey, Will drank some of the juice I bought us because I was starting to worry about scurvy, and we read the sun down on our beach:

I'm SO glad we had our beach cookout, even though we were all tired, because the next day I walked out with my coffee and book and peanut butter toast, planning a leisurely little brekkie by the water before gearing up for Sleeping Bear... and the beach was absolutely covered with dead alewives.

And that's why we ate frozen pizza for dinner that night and microwaved hot dogs for the next day's breakfast!

Day 1: Presque Isle Lighthouses

Day 2: Mackinac Island

When in Michigan, You Must Bicycle around Mackinac Island

After leaving the Presque Isle Lighthouses, the kids and I continued up the coast to Mackinaw City. On the way, Syd introduced us to her current favorite podcast:

You apparently have to choose your episodes of this somewhat carefully if you want to be able to continue looking your mother in the face afterwards ("They're filthier when they've got a guest," Syd explained), but I have thought about one bit in the "Would You Rather" episode, the bit in which the guys are trying to figure out if they'd rather be lizards or women and one guy goes off on an absolute rant about how the lizard he used to have lived like a freaking king and maybe thought he was God, probably once an hour since Syd streamed it for me, and every time laughed exactly as hard as I did the first time I heard it. I even tried pulling it up for Matt, but his lack of appreciation makes me feel like it might be one of those inside jokes/group hallucinogenic experiences that you can only fully get if you're on a homeschool road trip.

Speaking of experiences that bring you closer together through nothing but the shared misery of living through it...

You guys, have you ever seen a midge? Because OMG. Back at Presque Isle, we'd noticed a couple of these weird, oddly large insects that buzzed us like mosquitos. They didn't bite, but they did leave a horrifyingly large, fatty stain wherever you swatted them, and we soon figured out to brush them off our clothes if we didn't want to live our lives liberally splashed with midge guts. 

Maybe the spiders were saving us from midges, because when we got to our motel, right on the water and with this beautiful view of the Mackinac Bridge--

--absolute swarms of midges greeted us. We quick-walked with our stuff, mouths firmly closed, to the door of our room, took turns brushing each other off, then opened the door and bolted inside and shut the door behind us. Midges battered themselves against the closed door and windows, and whenever we stepped back outside, they rose up from the white walkway and steps and flew in our faces. \

The motel management left a little box of Hershey's Kisses on the motel bed, next to a typed letter asking us not to smash midges against the walls and ceiling.

The kids had had enough of the day's double hell of constant family time plus midges (not to mention spiders), so they retreated into their screens and flatly refused to come walk on the beach and look at the beautiful views of the Mackinac Bridge with me. 

Their loss, because there were hardly any midges on the beach!

AND there was another lighthouse!

Later, though, Will had successfully put the midges out of her mind enough to agree to come with me to check out the Headlands International Dark Sky Park. Astronomy is one of my favorite hobbies, and I am forever trying to visit a real Dark Sky Park, forever seeking out the skyscape of a childhood spent lying out in the front yard, marveling at the Milky Way and Orion and every satellite and shooting star. 

In the past few years, I actually have visited a few Dark Sky Parks, but the thing is that whenever I go, IT IS ALWAYS CLOUDY! 

Sooo... welcome to sunset at Headlands:

Sigh.

Sunset over the Mackinac Bridge is super pretty, though!

The next morning, we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast and packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, and strolled over to the ferry dock, where we arrived in time to catch one of the special ferries that detours UNDER the Mackinac Bridge!

Another lighthouse! Here's the Round Island Passage Light:

Look how fun my Life360 report from that trip is!

My big plans for Mackinac Island were renting bicycles and eating fudge. The end. 

Step One: Bicycles was a go!

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We were 100% the only bicyclists on the island wearing helmets. I do NOT care, though--last winter, Will's pediatrician advised her to wear a helmet while SLEDDING, that's how dangerous head injuries are to those precious, growing brains!

Bicycles turned out to also be the best way to get away from the crowds, the one Mackinac Island tradition that both kids were immediately over the second we stepped off the ferry.

So instead of walking nose-to-butt up and down the main street with all the other tourists, we got to spend a couple of remarkably peaceful hours riding around a remarkably beautiful wonderland:

Will said that she could have happily ridden around the island a second time, it was that fun. 

Step two of the plan: fudge!

I would be very curious to know how fudge became such a quintessential experience, because for the rest of the trip the kids and I played a game entitled Count the Fudge Shops, but nevertheless we took the challenge of Mackinac Island Fudge very seriously, visiting exactly every fudge shop on the island before coming back to the winner, Joann's Fudge. There, Will settled in to ask the assistant for sample after sample, and Syd occupied herself dithering over saltwater taffy varieties:

So, here's a completely embarrassing thing that absolutely haunted us for our entire trip: when Will settled on the college she'll be attending, I obviously had everyone pick out some swag. Because you gotta rep your school, right?!?

The hoodies and zippered sweatshirts that we picked out happened to arrive right before we left for Michigan, so when each person looked at my packing list and saw that I said to pack a sweatshirt or hoodie, each person obviously reached for the nearest sweatshirt or hoodie at hand and packed that one. 

And then it was constantly chilly on the water, so we all put them on. And realized at that moment that we all matched.

Syd's isn't so bad, because you have to really look at her sweatshirt before you see the school seal on it. Will and I, though? Our hoodies both have the name of her college SUPER big on them--ugh, they're so dorky, but I was really excited when I picked mine out, okay? And wearing basically matching billboards meant that so many people came up and spoke to us, and it. Was. Awful.

But when Will bought her fudge and Syd's toffee, she told the cashier that they were a school group--see? Matching school swag!--and she got a 10% discount.

Moral of the story: yes, I probably would gladly suffer that embarrassment again just to save a buck-fifty on tourist candy.

We took our tourist candy back to the shore and settled in for a comfy while (I am LOVING this book series!):

She knocked them down when she was done, because rock stacking does not follow Leave No Trace principles. 

Eventually, though, we temporarily shelved our sugar and headed back to the mainland:

In this photo, Syd is glaring jealously at the OTHER ferry line's ferry, which she thinks looks a lot cooler than our ferry.

No detour under the bridge on the way back, but we did get a nice view of the island:

That evening, after peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner, I was finally able to tempt both kids into a walk out and about with me. We explored the touristy street of downtown Mackinaw City (so much fudge!), then took one last walk on the less-midgey beach at sunset:

Now they've both seen five lighthouses and are well on their way to earning that Lighthouses of Michigan badge!

We made it back to our room with hardly any midge corpse stains on our clothes, that's how good we were getting at midge-dodging!

Day 1: Presque Isle Lighthouses