From the Observation Deck

I love being an American. What other people can get away with going to another country and using their own currency to purchase things. Last week I crossed the border into Canada. I have to admit it was a bit difficult to remember I was in a foreign country until the boys in the hotel lobby started talkin aboot drivin the big trucks over the ice bridge next summer. (All I can say about that is at least they have jobs.)

Anyway, my parents and I decided we weren’t far enough north in Petoskey, MI, so we drove up through the Upper Peninsula and over the International Bridge (over the locks) and into Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. For those of you who are geographically challenged, the Upper Peninsula is a whole other part of Michigan apart from the “hand.” The people who live there are called “Yoopers.” Ontario is a province in Canada (they call them provinces not states there—one of the many differences between our countries aside from national health care, their weird pronunciation of the vowel “o,” and a love of hockey). And, Sault Ste. Marie is pronounced “Soo Saint Marie.” There’s actually a Sault Ste. Marie in Michigan, too. Guess where it is.

While in “Soo” we visited the Bushplane Museum and the Sault Ste. Marie Museum, and took the Agawa Canyon tour train. The Agawa train was an all day adventure. We boarded first thing in the morning and rode the rails for four hours, 114 miles, into the beautiful scenic north. Once we arrived in the Agawa Canyon, we hiked around for awhile along a river and through the woods. It’s hard to believe we are in danger of not having enough trees on the planet when you visit such stunning places as this. It was so out of the main stream that the few people we did pass along the way had funny stuff outside their houses for our amusement and all waved at the train—I’m pretty sure we were the only people they ever got to see. After the ride home, we went over to the local casino where my dad and I won enough at the slots to pay for our dinner. (And that was Canadian money.)

On our way back to the Glenview Cottages (aka cute but crappy cabins in the middle of nowhere), we stopped at the Frontier Village. It was on the tourist map and I really wanted to see what it was. I was under the mistaken impression it was something akin to Jamestown Settlement where I visited the other week. Wrong. Big time. It consisted of a trading post (a sort of grocery store that also sold canoes), the Totem Pole (a cheesy tourist shop), an ice cream shop, and a fish and french fry stand. My dad made a funny when he noticed that the french fry stand was posting what we call in America, a “sign FAIL.” Right below the flashing neon “open” sign was a sign that said “sorry we’re closed.” Loving the tasteless tourist trap and inspiring my mom and dad to get involved in finding fodder for this blog, I made sure to walk around the entire place taking photos which I have posted below for your enjoyment. If you’re ever north of Sault Ste. Marie on the Great Northern Highway, make sure to stop in.

I do love Canada and its people. I even know the Canadian National Anthem and have been there about a dozen times including a trip to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (I love saying that). I recommend a visit there to everyone—just make sure to bring your passport or the nice man at the border won’t let you back home. As much fun as those crazy Canucks are, it gets dang cold there in the winter.

Convoy

At the two-hour mark just over the Mason-Dixon line, I reached what I like to call the Las Vegas of Pennsylvania. It’s a town called Breezewood where you catch the PA turnpike. Its two hundred restaurants and gas stations compete for your attention with signs that are about fifty feet tall. And by the way, I saw the welcome sign for PA and it said it’s the “state of independence.” Not sure what that means. It used to be “the keystone state.”

So on to the PA turnpike. This gem of a highway will test your driving skills, nerves, patience, and tires. It winds around and up and down the mountains. Trucks and other cars going both too fast and too slow plus the construction barriers made me feel like I was playing that Mario Wii game with my nephew. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a giant mushroom showed up in place of a bridge. The only fun part (except the end of it) is the Allegheny Tunnel and only because it’s relatively straight and flat. Pennsylvania cop count: 4

Speaking of straight and flat, let me now introduce you to the Ohio turnpike. At first it’s a nice change of pace from PA but 2 ½ hours of it is mind-numbing. There are some really nice things about Ohio (like Put-in-Bay and Cedar Point) but you’d never know that by just driving the turnpike. And seriously Ohio, you need to get on board with EZ Pass. Ohio cop count: 5. (Unusually low for OH.)

Ohio turnpike

At hour seven my windshield was plastered with bugs and I finally reached the border of Michigan. Ahhhhh, I love driving through MI. There’s just enough to make it interesting while allowing for fast, easy driving. The one big giveaway that you’ve crossed the border is the sudden appearance of FIREWORKS signs. About two hours later I reached a town called Frankenmuth. It’s Michigan’s little Bavaria. Just the name made me want to stop. There’s also a massively huge Christmas store there called Bronner’s.  

Bronner's Christmas Wonderland

As I continue on I-75 past Flint and Saginaw, the birch trees start appearing and the air gets cleaner. I pass the 49^th parallel and I’m almost there. I wanted to stop at the Grayling canoe festival but I was getting anxious to get to the cabin. Michigan cop count: 1

49th parallel

I finally reached Willow Loon—the place my Grandfather bought back in the 30s and my aunt owns today. It’s surrounded by woods and the water is clear and as blue as the sky. Can’t ask for too much else. Grendel is in heaven and now that the sun is up, I’m going to relax on the dock and read a good book—maybe the one titled “Sparkle Island.”