730a was the departure time.. I kept coffee to a minimum to avert stopping every 30 minutes. I did however make it strong. We decided to put miles under us to get to the UP then meander.

We pulled onto US23 north and merged onto I-75 in Flint. Rush hour traffic was minimal. We stopped for fuel bout halfway up. Back on the the road. In about 20 miles the storm clouds increased quickly and we stopped to put on the weather gear. Light rain for about 100 miles. Easy drive, we kept our speed up. After 4+ hours we hit the Mackinac Bridge about 1130 – 1200. We stopped at the bridge to fuel and decided to take off the rain suits. Over the bridge with all lanes open.

Drummond Island was about an easy hour and a half away. The island is the farther point east in Michigan. Surrounded on 3 sides by Canada, at the far northern end of Lake Huron. Accessible only by state ferries at Detour Village. This is all part of the navigable waters between Lakes Superior and Huron.

Weather turned sunny so we stopped to pick up a six pack in order to pull over on the north shore of Lake Huron to relax, have a cigar an toast our good fortune. A beautiful secluded beach happened upon us so I pulled off, buried my front wheel into the soft shoulder and dropped my bike on its side. With the rear wheel still in gear, spinning and throwing dirt back on Mike, I had the presence of mind to turn the bike off. We righted the bike and amazingly no damage (it went over slowly), other than bruised machismo. So we did the only adult thing we could. We had a few beers, toasted the event and smoked a fine cigar on a beautiful September day marveling at the beauty of the surroundings.

Back on the bikes, we headed east to Detour Village. Luck was with us as the ferry was loading the last few vehichles and we got right on.

Once on the Island, we drove about 20 miles, found our cabin and the office was closed. So plan was go back and have a few beers. Here is event number 2. The driveway was gravel and a steep incline down to the lake. I made the experienced professional decision to continue down the drive, turn the bike around and come back up the hill. I mean it was the right thing to do. So that worked. However, the incline (very steep and gravel) starts immediately at road. As I was going up over the hump, onto the road, a car happened to be there as well. As I braked, my forward motion ceased and my sideways motion took over. The bike went down. What was different from the earlier event was that I rolled down a hill as I left the bike. It was a Kodak moment. I remembered my tuck and roll training. The bike’s wheel however did stop spinning. Mike and the gentlman who happened to be in the aforementioned vehicle helped right the bike. No personal injuries and again, no damage to the bike however my personal vision of myself as a motorcycle stud has now disappeared. I dont think its going to come back. Years of motorcycling. Two drops in one day. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

We continued with our plan and went out and had a beer, waiting for the office to open. You can imagine what we discussed.

When we did get back to the office, we met the owner. Elvira. A wonderful woman who professed to be 88 years old. Who am I to challange that. I tried and she smiled. The cabin, 2 bedrooms, clean, no bathroom towels, right on the lake. Still in its 1950’s decor and state of maintenence. Once settled, we had to go back into town to get something to eat and to prepare for the evening events (sitting in chairs, drinking cheap whisky in chairs on the lakeshore). I am proud to say, I kept bike vertical the rest of the day. 

Dinner at Ester’s. Mexican. Excellent. Except for Mike’s food poisoning which kept him occupied for most of the evening and the following day. We consumed a bottle of non-descript distilled beverage and smoked cigars well into evening waiting for the northern lights. We finally realized that since it was raining the cloud cover would preclude our expectations. Around midnight we realised how wet we were and we sloshed back to the cabin and called it an evening. Actually it was only because we were out of anything to drink. Mike unfortunately however did have to drive the white bus throughout the night.

With the first day of the trip set in the annals of the ‘motorcycle diaries’, it was time to start a new day. Thursday morning. Cool morning. Fog, mist, Rain. Just the type you would expect in the reaches of Michigan’s northernmost boundaries. Mike was still savoring his Mexican feast. I made and drank a pot of coffee. Starbucks, expresso roast (I brought it with). 1030 we mounted our trusty steeds. I almost dropped the bike again going up that gosh darn driveway as the torque from the Suzuki’s enging kept wanting to spin the wheel on the loose gravel pushing the bike up the incline but I am proud to say I again remained vertical. Mike had no trouble.

We proceeded to the ferry. Rain. Fog. I was squeemish on boarding, remembering the previous day. Wet steel loading ramps, the ferry rocking slightly with the waves. Slippery. All went well. I was rebuilding my motorcycle confidence. However slight.

On to Sault Ste Marie. Exceptional scenery. Primative. Remote. Beautiful.

An hour or so to Sault Ste Marie. Rain cleared. Autumn winds picked up. Sun came out. Spectacular. We stopped at the Soo locks. After Mike came out of the rest room in the visitor facility we watched a small tug and barge come through the locks. We got the jist of what it was all about and got back on the road.

An hour or so later of riding though the massive forests and lakes of the UP, we arrived in Paradise, MI. We pulled into the cabin resort which I had expertly prearranged and presented myself proudly. The nice lady had no idea wtf I was talking about, only to finally realize I had pulled into the wrong resort. Having quickly regrouped, I found the correct facility, checked in and found more loose gravel driveways with downhill inclines. I would like to interject that I now have these figured out….

Nice clean rooms. Right on Lake Superior. Life is complete. Well not quite. We needed food and drink.

Back into Paradise. The Fish House. Best Fish and Chips in the area. As they say, ‘It was swimming this morning’. It was excellent. I stop there every time I am in the area. When they run out of the fish they caught in the morning, they close the restaurant.

After dinner, up to Whitefish Point. Lighthouse. Shipwreck museum.. You know, where the Edmund Fitzgerald went down. Looked at the lighthouse. Looked at the lake. Walked through the gift shop. We’re done.

Back into Paradise. Picked up supplies for the evening’s entertainment. Chairs outside. The owner came out and sat with us. We laughed. We told stories. The stars came out. More stars than one deserves. Not a cloud in the sky. Across the bay is Cananda. 30 miles away. You can see faint outlines of a wind turbine farm. The red lights on top of the turbines blinking. Clear. Dozens of them. Wow.

Mike and I spoke of our views of the world’s perceived problems and how to fix them as well as our good fortunes. I forgot to mention as part of the supplies for that evening that I picked up was a bag of cheddar and jalepeno cheetos. My celebration for keeping my bike vertical all day.. Tomorrow more adventures. Tonight though, the most beautiful star filled sky I have seen in a while with great comaraderie.

Life is good.