11 years ago today, Day 22

My purse was right where I’d left it, thank goodness, rescued as soon as I thought it was a decent hour to go knock on the motel office door. 

And the day went rapidly up from there.  I drove east along the Lake Michigan shore to a rest area that claimed to be the northernmost shore of the lake, where I made up for my sleepless night by taking an hour’s nap in the car.  The view from there of the Mackinac Bridge was nice:

From there I went to St. Ignace (IG-nis), which is the jumping off point for the ferry to Mackinac (pronounced MAC-i-naw, not MAC-i-nac, and a shortening of the Indian word Michilimackinac, not a Scots word at all as I’d always assumed) Island.  I wanted to go to Mackinac Island, and not just because the movie Somewhere in Time was filmed there, although that was one reason I did.

The little passenger-only ferries (there are no cars allowed on the island) are adorable, throwing up rooster tails of water behind them:

And the view of the bridge was much better from the ferry, too:
This is the only bridge I know of that marks the dividing line between two lakes, Michigan and Huron.

I liked Mackinac Island very much.  I walked around the village:

Mackinac Island post office

And bought the famous fudge (the only thing about the island with which I was less than impressed — it didn’t taste very chocolatey, in my opinion).  And took a carriage tour around the island:

No, that pavement wasn’t rain-wet, it was hose-wet.

The open carriage ride was cold, but it was fun, and took me past the Grand Hotel and a lot of stately “cottages.”  Although the only photo I managed to get of the hotel (which was the main location of Somewhere in Time) was from the ferry on my way back:

Grand Hotel through the window of the ferry.

After I arrived back in St. Ignace, I headed over the Mackinac Bridge, which was quite an experience, although since I was driving and there was no place to stop, I couldn’t take any pictures.  It didn’t feel as high as the Columbia River bridge at Astoria although I suspect it was, but it felt a lot longer (turns out it’s about a mile longer — approximately five miles to the Astoria bridge’s four).  It was much more “hanging out” in the middle of water as far as the eye could see on either side, too.  Kind of eerie that way. 

By then it was late in the afternoon, and I needed to find a place to sleep.  I found it in an almost-deserted campground at Lake Cheboygan State Park, which turned out to be nice and peaceful, if cold.  I was beginning to wonder how much colder it was going to get before I reached the East Coast and could turn south…