Sweet Baby Michigan

I don't know how to write this post about this summer weekend without using ALL the superlatives because, hands down, northern Michigan is one of THE cutest places in the country. 

Adorable.

So idyllic and picturesque and quaint and just plain lovely. 

If it weren't for the deterrents of "snowmobile x-ing" signs and a 20-foot ruler set up in a town square to measure snowfall, you could catch me moving up to Petoskey tomorrow. 

After talking dreamily about our mutual desire to visit (or in her case, revisit) Mackinac Island one Sunday after Relief Society, my friend Allie and I decided somewhat spontaneously to just go for a quick weekend at the end of June. 

From Chicago, the drive was about 6 hours, and we chose to drive up the western coast of the state, keeping a close eye on Lake Michigan out of our windows along the way. 

The scenery was lush and verdant, and the houses--the houses!! UGH. Brightly colored siding, wrap-around porches, gabled gingerbread roofs: I could have died. Plus, we visited the weekend before the Fourth of July, so everyone's small-town Stars Hollow patriotism was visible in their flags flying freely and the red, white, and blue bunting swagged from the eaves or across balconies. The lake glittered nearby, and staunch pine trees towered protectively all around. Everything felt so safe and perfect. 

Allie and I rented a litte cabin, like an actual tiny cabin, on the banks of a little inland lake, just a few short miles south of Mackinaw City, and it was definitely one of the more ridiculously adorable places I've stayed before, if not only for the setting, but the tiny cabin itself. 

We freshened up and headed to Mackinaw City to scrounge up some dinner and to poke around, and we were NOT disappointed. Okay, well, it was a slight disappointment that the Saturday night fireworks didn't begin until after July 4th, but other than that, everything was superb. We parked and walked along Main Street, which culminated in a ferry stop and then the lake - it was right on the water. The street was lined with little gift and souvenir shops, but more than that: FUDGE shops. Most of them were closed by the time we'd finished our pizza, but we managed to find a shop that was open and wiling to offer us some generous scoops of ice cream. 

Back at our little cabin for the night, we wandered down to the lake's edge, taking up residence in two little camp chairs. Though it was nearly 11, the moon was just barely rising full and golden over the water, and we sat there contentedly, letting the wind whip through our hair while we cast our heads back to gaze upwards at the brightening constellations overhead as miniature waves lapped near our feet. 

Saturday, however, was THE DAY for which I had been waiting, and despite waking up with a vicious cold, I would not be deterred. My goals for the day were as follows:

1. See a lighthouse

2. Visit the Grand Hotel

3. Eat a lot of fudge 

We checked off #1 at Michilimackinaw Fort and dipped our toes into Lake Huron before boarding a ferry out to Mackinac Island, whose name is pronounced the same as Mackinaw City, despite its spelling. 

On our way out to the island, the ferry went and circled under the Mackinaw Bridge, which is, interestingly enough, the longest suspension bridge in the Western Hemisphere, measuring a cool 5 miles long. Only...it was super windy, and the stiff wind combined with our ferry skimming swiftly through the waves meant that we, sitting next to the railing, got absolutely DRENCHED. 

So, unsurprisingly, Mackinac Island, is one of *the* cutest places ever and adorable in every way. The island does not allow cars, so transportation traffic was a combination of tourists on foot, cyclists, and horses + horse-drawn carriages. Could things BE any more quaint?

The Main Street boasted more than a dozen fudge shops (YES, more than a dozen) along with various candy shops, souvenir shops, stationary and gift shops, little restaurants, and novelty stores. We meandered through the streets for a bit, completely enamored with its enchanting small town feel, before cutting upward to a quieter and less populated back street lined with bed and breakfasts, tiny inns, and historical markers. I quite enjoyed the signs designating spaces for policemen and firemen to mark their bikes, as not even they were permitted cars. 

But of course, what I was most excited about was seeing the Grand Hotel, which I knew from movie Somewhere in Time. The hotel was, exactly as its name described, exceptionally grand. It was set up on a hill with its gardens and lawns spread out majestically below it. As we approached the hotel, we encountered an ornate sign that stipulated a clear dress code, including one note that after 6 pm, women were prohibited from wearing trousers when dining in the hotel. 

Inside the hotel, the carpet, walls, ceiling, and furniture played on themes of white, black, sea foam green, bright kelly green, and a striking Christmasy red. The hotel had been built in 1887, and while obvious improvements and updates had been made since then, many of the design choices and furniture styles seemed to herald back to another century - plush velvety chairs with delicately carved spindly legs, gaudy mirrors, gilded frames, and thin brass wall sconces. The floors varied from  black and white checkered tile to green and black carpet accented with red geraniums and vibrant lily pads. 

We'd entered the hotel on the lower level, and upon walking up the stairs to the main floor, I fell even more wildly in love with the clusters of faded red armchairs around tiny tea tables and configurations of plush emerald sofas under austere portraits in ornate frames. We sat for a bit in this main area, envisioning what people-watching might have been like a century earlier before finally venturing out onto the porch, which sent my heart into palpitations from its cuteness. 

At 660 feet long, this porch happens to hold the world record for being the longest of all porches. The portico extended high above us, the underside of which was painted a light mint green. Yellow awnings over the windows contrasted with the flower boxes overflowing with lush geraniums, whose red petals were mimicked in the stripes of the flags hung incrementally down the length of the porch. And, just as I'd hoped and imagined, the porch was lined with white wooden rocking chairs. We strolled to the far end and sat for a while and rocked, marveling over the majesty of the hotel and the view of the water before us and the weather and the island and how everything was perfect and adorable and cute. 

We also snuck up to the second level of the hotel, curious about what guest rooms might look like. The hallways were painted in contrasting white and green or white and peach stripes, and our not-so-surreptitious glances into the occasional bedroom proffered us sporadic glances of rooms decorated with floral wallpapers and windows dressed with an abundance of pastel fabrics. 

We strolled down the front lawn and into the gardens, taking a peek into a little greenhouse and through the carefully tended forest paths, down a steep hill and finally to the little inlet where, in the movie, Christopher Reeve first meets Jane Seymour.

After lunch, we rented beach cruiser bikes and rode the full 8 miles around the island's perimeter, and like everything else that day, it was nothing short of picturesque and idyllic. The houses we rode past in town looked like gingerbread cottages, and once we escaped the touristy part of the island, it was just us, the trees, and the endlessness of the lake extending out towards the horizon. Everything felt so dreamy and romantic, and the setting was otherworldly. 

That afternoon, we headed back to the mainland to pick up our car and so I could buy some (slightly less expensive) fudge before, just for the sake of doing it, we drove across the Mackinaw Bridge, crossing the Mackinaw Straits so I could visit the Upper Peninsula, which, until this trip, I hadn't realized was a part of the state of Michigan. We stopped in St. Ignace to look at another lighthouse for my sake and grab some dinner before heading back to our cabin, rounding out the night seated at the edge of the dock at our cabin, dangling our feet in the lake while we read and watched the sunset. 

Our weekend trip was meant to be quick and speedy, so Sunday morning we headed back down south. However, we made a point of stopping in Traverse City for the National Cherry Festival that had begun that week. We walked through the most adorable downtown area, popping into cute home decor and kitchen shops, artsy boutique shops, and shops that solely touted cherry-flavored fare. We strolled through booths from the art and crafts portion of the festival before heading over to the marina where the carnival rides had been set up alongside the food booths. We sampled cherry salsas and barbecue sauces and cherry smoothies and pies and slushies to be had among farmer market jerky and cheese dips and pizzas. I got a cherry sundae and then we grabbed some tacos before hitting the road.

And then our last stop of the trip was in South Haven, Michigan's most well-known little beach town. Once again, Allie humored me and found me a lighthouse to visit, because they're neat. And not to hate on California, but I would much rather come to a Michigan beach any day of the week - fewer people, cleaner water, and no risk of shark attacks. 

Win win win win win. 

But maybe my favorite thing about Michigan was how all the parks and public places boasted SUNSCREEN DISPENSERS. I will always support a state that makes skin cancer prevention a priority.