Ft. Wilkins SP, MI
Because we had not unhitched, on the 11th we were on the road early (for us) -- down MI-93 to I-75 which took us once again over the Straits of Mackinac bridge.


Immediately after crossing we once again took US-2 along the sandy north shore of Lake Michigan, then once again to MI-77 the few short miles to Big Cedar Campground, Kayak, and Canoe Rental at Germfask, which started as a CCC campground from 1935 to 1945. And we pulled out the digital camera that our youngest son Paul had so kindly loaned to us:






Next morning (the 12th) we were on the road even earlier, up MI-77 to MI-28 through Marquette, then US-41 through Baraga, Houghton, Hancock, Calumet, a series of depressed and progressively smaller little towns on the border of Keweenaw County, then progressively smaller abandoned little clusters of houses, and finally a multi-mile twisting arcade of trees, until we went up the last river valley and crossed a saddle over the mountains into the back of beyond -- Copper Harbor:



On the east side of the little village, Bobbi once again chose to overnight for the next five days in the east campground at Ft. Wilkins SP:






-- our favorite campground in July and August.

Today was a day of catchup -- we went into town to get on the internet, bought a pasty to share for lunch (and a little Jilbert's ice cream for dessert), took the dogs on really long walks. And we worked on our communications -- today Lew downloaded our email and found a FAX machine. Tomorrow we will have to drive to the top of Mt. Brockway to get a cell phone signal, and we will have to link with others by email. But tonight it is raining.

Copper Harbor is as we remembered it -- even better. Rather than becoming more commercialized, there actually were fewer tourists this year. Perhaps the gasoline prices did it. The best store in town was closed because it had gone bankrupt (we do feel badly for the proprietor who had tried to make it go -- and now supplies are harder to get than ever). So there is even more nothing here than in past years.

Here we sit, with water (Lake Superior) in front of us:


and water (Lake Fanny Hooe) behind us:


-- just us:


and the dogs:



and an occasional other tourist scattered among the rocks:


Part of the reason there are so few residents here is that the land cannot be farmed, due partly to the cold, and partly to the lack of soil over the rocks:


The only plants that can extract a precarious existence from the thin soil between the rocks are birches and pine trees:


-- and thimbleberries!


The only life form that actually flourishes here, whether on rocks or on living or dead wood, is lichens:


There simply is nothing else here. No cell phone service, even with our new phones (above). WI-FI is available (at least 3 hotspots) -- if you drive into town -- but Copper Harbor is way at the end of a long transmission line, so the provider is s-l-o-w.

But the bell on the harbor bouy (on the horizon below the red mark)


(telephoto shot:)


still tolls "bong-bong" all night, and all day, calling everyone to -- prayer? Meditation? Contemplation? At night there is a mandela of stars in a black sky to focus on.

As the monks of the Holy Transfiguration monastery discovered over 20 years ago, this place in itself is one gigantic retreat, the perfect place for these disciplines.

The retreat-like atmosphere is enhanced by the artefacts within the park. The bathhouses


like the restored fort itself, were constructed during the Great Depression by the WPA, from local ore-bearing rock and heavy timbers. Well-maintained over the intervening years, the result is deliciously attractive Adirondack-like interiors:




Fortunately, despite this picturesque antiquity, the plumbing has been updated and the showers are the most modern in Michigan's exemplary State Park system.