Home Again

Today was mostly a travel day.  Today dawned clear and cool, a couple degrees cooler than yesterday, feeling more like September than July.  We finished up the bacon for breakfast, took our last walk around the campground and a mile or so down the bike trail, and headed south.

Vanderbilt, Michigan, is a wide spot in the road about 15 miles south of the campground on Old M-27.  It holds the record for the coldest recorded temperature in the state of Michigan when it reached −51 °F in 1934.  We drove through it, just to say we’ve been there.  And it really wasn’t much.

We took I-75 south into Grayling, a town named after a fish.  The Arctic Grayling was abundant in the Au Sable River and in much of Northern Michigan until large-scale lumber operations wiped them out.  Attempts since then to re-introduce the Arctic Grayling in the area have largely failed as other species of sport fish have been introduced which compete for food.

But we didn’t come for the fish.  Deb saw a thrift store she wanted to visit.  However, when we got there, it was closed, with a sign on the door saying that the closure was due to a mandatory staff meeting.  Maybe next time.

We took M-72 west towards Kalkaska and then US-131 south.  At the roundabout near Fife Lake, we decided to eat lunch in Fife Lake because we drive by it all the time but have never been there. So we found a community park overlooking the 600-acre lake and had leftovers for lunch.

We stopped in Cadillac for fuel and a couple more thrift stores.  Sometimes you score something at a thrift store, sometimes not.  This was one of those “not” times.  Goodwill is always hit or miss, this one was a miss.  Prices here were high for a thrift store and the judgment of those who curate the donations sometimes leaves us scratching our heads.  Prominently displayed in this store was a pair of jeans for eight bucks that really needed to go in the dumpster.  I mean really needed to go in the dumpster.  While rips and holes are fashion these days, this one would just be totally inappropriate.

We stopped downtown at the farmer’s market which turned out to be more art fair than farmer’s market.  One venue was something I’ve never seen before.  A woman was standing on the sidewalk with a large drum oriented horizontally, held off the sidewalk a couple feet by several legs.  There were perhaps 5 people laying on the sidewalk on blankets and pillows with their heads under the drum.  This woman was drumming softly in an unrecognizable rhythm.  Occasionally she would  strike some other percussion instrument, such as a set of chimes.  Was this some sort of sound therapy?  Some sort of mystical thing?  Audio message?

The rain curtailed any additional stops so we drove straight home from there.

Total miles traveled: 728