Michigan's Upper Penninsula is not mentioned by most outdoorsy people, at least not outside the upper midwest. Everyone knows about the Redwoods, Arches, and Glacier, but very few know about the "U.P." as it is know around these parts.
There seem to be just one rule about spending time in the U.P. : If you have an agenda, you are doing it wrong.
There are not chains of fast food joints. There is no "fast" anything, just lots of trees, lakes, cabins, and homes that are the retreats of people a few hours south. Fishing and skiing (and drinking?) are the acceptable past-times. As soon as I can get my fitness level up to where I can fully appreciating miles of XC ski trails, I'll visit the U.P. in the winter. Until then, I'm firmly sold on its status as a slice of heaven in the summer. The kind of heaven where angels aren't making you feel guilty for not doing things, but are just glad you are able to re-charge, un-plug, and find peace.
Two years ago, our daughter-in-law's family invited us to share part of a week with them at a cabin they have been visiting for decades.
I was not sure what to expect from the U.P. then, but was quickly sold on that kind of vacation. You just stay in one place. No crowds, expensive tickets, traffic, or worrying about knowing a museum's open hours. You just wake up when you want, nap when you want, swim when you want, and eat when you want. You can choose to be social in the communal areas, or you can find cozy nooks on the porch or in the trees to be alone.
(And did I mention the sauna!? No? Well... the SAUNA is the heart of the U.P. giving life to to swimmers and early morning lake appreciators when the temps are chilly. It is also a great place to sing Swedish Sauna Songs with my boys!
The name for this blog ("But it's beautiful now") came from a conversation I had on day 1 of our U.P. trip. We had just arrived, and I'd gone down to the lake for the first swim with my boys. I got into a conversatioin with my oldest son, talking about the difficult time I was having managing the grief of losing my oldest daughter this summer. This grief seemed to color everything I looked at. I look at people now as being able to die at any moment. Everytime I see somebody, I know it might be the last time. I used to think you had to get old before you would exit life, but was proved wrong. Of course I knew in THEORY that you could die young. I had friends die young, back when we were teenagers, but having a child of MINE die was a reality-cracker. I learned the universe does not play by the rules. (It cheats, FYI.)
I was worried I would be depressed and glum the whole time in the U.P. "What a waste of beauty that would be", I thought. So, I started a game to trick my mind into looking away from the grim reality of our existance. The way I have worked on being "OK-ish" with this unpredictability, is to remind myself, "But it's beautiful now." I explained this phrase and mindset to my adult son, as we stood together, looking over a blue lake, rimmed with trees, while my youngest son paddled a boat off in the distance, completely happy (and not dying). It was a beautiful moment of peace, beauty and freedom.
I continued to remind myself of this phrase daily, taking note of the natural beauty surrounding me. Then I moved on to thanking God for it, and acknowledging He did a pretty good job creating the U.P. I would talk with Him as I swam silently through the mist in the mornings, watching the sun rise over the trees. I shared my appreciation of the sparkles on the water with Him, as well as the lively honking from the ducks flying over my head. It was all unsullied by grief. It was simply beauty. I would also remind God occasionally that my daughter would have loved to see this, and I hoped she had a good view of all this beauty as well, from wherever she had landed.
Here are my favorite beauty moments from the week. Sunrise photos from each morning, around 7:30 AM, before I quietly slipped into the water to start my morning pilgrimage across the lake.
Wednesday AM
Thursday AM
Friday AM
Saturday AM
I am sorry you cannot feel the vast stillness through the photos, or watch the bewitching mist move across the lake surface. You will just have to visit yourself.
Other moments of beauty came from the people I was around. These crazy people. (Here we are after playing some very competitive Kubb, and yes, my co-walker-through-life and I were on the winning team!)
Music sparks life in my heart. I sang camp songs with my daughter-in-law playing the guitar, and jammed myself on guitar with my boys on accordion and fiddle. I would say nature is the air that I breathe in keeping my mind claear, but music is the life blood that pumps through my body, giving it energy to go on.
So much life in such a small package!
Good times with my bros.
Another beutiful moment was teaching my youngest son to clean fish, and see how intensly focused and intersted he was in the task. I loved sharing a skill I had learned from my dad, who learned from his dad, and back and back, who knows how long ago. I expect the grandpas were watching the youngest fishermen in their line with great interest, from whatever vantage point heaven has over the U.P.
Fish catching
Fish cleaning
Fish cooking
I also loved the beauty of seeing my little boy growing up into a man. He would confidently go out on the various boats like he was born a sailor. One afternoon, I wanted to go out on a boat with him to fish, but had not clue how to drive it. He figure it out in 5 minutes and then handled this boat like a pro!
He drove me carefully around the lake, throwing out the anchor at spots we wanted to stay in longer. When it was time to go back, nobody else was on the dock, but he was able to park it smoothly by himself and tie it up. (I was so worried we would crash into the dock posts, but he slid it in right alongside like a pro boat captain! He is going to be an amazing parallel parker when he gets his drivers license.) I also loved how careful he was, holding the boat in place, while I cautiously stepped out. He is turning into such a thoughtful young man. He is beautiful inside and out.
There were good memories of group socializing (tastey dinners, eating "smookies" by the camp fire, learning to play cribbage, and playing "salad bowl" by the fireplace our last night).
But what I really enjoyed was the nature. I just drank it in.
Here is the beautiful walk down to the lake in morning sun from the cabin:
And of course the lake...
We had a "no talking before 8AM" rule on the dock, that was adhered to with various degrees of dilligence. When we did talk, it was quietly. The dock chatter picked up as the day went on, as the fishing, boating, sauna singing, and lake jumping commenced.
I think the final moment of beauty came when everyone except us had packed up and left on Saturday morning. I was sitting at the table with Ephraim, finally drinking the cup of hot chocoalte that Asher had made for me hours ago, and brought down to the dock for me to enjoy hours ago, at the start of the day. I had been too busy swimming and singing in the sauna to appreciate it before it got cold. Asher's hot chocolate is nothing to sneeze at. It is a treasure to be appreciated. So, before we left, I was determined to sit in peace and enjoy it. Once we had packed up our rooms and food, I reheated my mug and sat down at the table for a final dose of U.P. peace and contentment.
Sean was out packing up the Kubb set. Asher had shut down the sauna and taken care of the fire. I told Ephraim that they were the kind of people everyone loved to have along on a trip, because they saw what needed to be done and did it. Asher really was the reason this whole week went so smoothly for so many people. He kept the kitchen and food organized. He managed the sauna and took out the trash. Sean was also doing that by the end of the week, after he figured out where things were, and how to tackle jobs on his own. He spent a lot of time chopping kindling so we could enjoy a cozy fire to play games by on our last ight, and have a pre-warmed sauna in the morning as soon as I got out of the lake. I told Ehraim he had some good role models, and if he turned out like his older brother and dad, I would be very pleased. There is beauty in seeing your children grow up into the kind of people others rely on.
Final lake swim!
Between the beautiful people and the nature that wrapped around us... I could feel the sadness disipate. As I swam, I felt like I was being held in the cupped hands of heaven. Only God could hold grief that big, and because He was helping to hold it, I didn't have to keep it all in myself. I could let some of it flow out into the lake, into the trees, and float away with the mist. Because all that beauty is strong enough to absorb all that sorrow, and only become more deeply beautiful somehow. That is the magic of the U.P.
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