Time went by too fast on my awesome trip to Marquette. I REALLY needed all that sun, lakewater, and fresh air. Thanks Dad, Christine, Jess, Mike, Indigo, Eli, Lucy, Big Boy, and everyone else I met along the way for making my trip refreshing and memorable! I look forward to seeing everyone again.
And now, I bid you farewell in traditional Yooper style. I’ve been told this is kind of a rite of passage for Marquettians, and after three visits I feel well acquainted with this laid-back, artsy, fun town.
Along Front Road lies some of the oldest exposed rock in the world. When my dad told me this as we drove by I thought, “I have to get a closer look. I have to touch them.” I wanted to feel the vibrations from near the beginning of the world. So, even though a construction crew had blocked it off, we were rebels and risked our safety to experience this rare encounter with antiquity… Ok, it wasn’t that risky… but there was an open manhole I could’ve fallen into!
A giant freshwater spring so clear, the 45 feet to the bottom seems only to be about 15. Tourists to Palms Book Park can view the spring by riding on a self propelled wooden raft with a glass bottom. Large trout swim slowly around in it, and its illegal to remove them. Its illegal to get in the water, too, although I’m curious if they’d let NatGeo or Discovery. The intense aquamarine colors beckon to come on in, but I read its sulphate that changes the color. Maybe not so beckoning after all. 10,000 gallons of water per minute are pumped into the spring via underground streams off Indian Lake that filter through cracks in the rock bed beneath it. If you look closely at the sand at the bottom, you can see it bubbling up. Its pretty magical. I hear its even more magical during a winter snow. Can you imagine that burst of emerald amid all that white? No wonder the Ojibwe initially called it “the mirror to heaven.”
This industrial town thrived circa the 1800’s. It was known for smelting iron ore and limestone. I’m not sure if I’m using “smelting” correctly, but I don’t care enough at the moment to google it. Basically, they burned shit in giant furnaces and shipped it out from the bay in order to make a living. I know, doesn’t sound like your ideal nor fragrant town, in fact, I read it used to be quite filthy. However, in present day, its a gorgeous place to spend a warm afternoon. Which is exactly what I did and had a lovely time exploring the secluded, run down time warp. It reminded me a bit of a place in Atlanta called The Goat Farm, an old factory town turned art and music venue. I once went to a roaming play there titled Rua (a dark take on Little Red Riding Hood). The audience followed this four person act around the 9 acres of land. It made for excellent aesthetics and atmosphere. Fayette Michigan could surely provide an inspiring back drop of a roaming play.
I also took notice of the self-sufficiency of the old town. I imagined what it would be like if progressive green architects took over and created a sustainable community that worked with what’s left of Fayette. What a hippie-chic little town it could be, with musicians playing in front of the giant furnaces, and solar panels decorating the tops of the old-timey houses. Futuristic, yet retro. Very “Hunger Games.”
Its my last night in Marquette. Ten days has whooshed by. This trip may have included the most amount of interesting stuff done in the least amount of time. Its strange… despite all of the invigorating, healthy activities and meals, I’m sleeping more than usual. I normally sleep a lot but…. damn, I wonder if I’ll ever see the days when slumber is no longer an issue. My dream world is stressful.
I must say, every once and a while I get a pang of anxiety as the realization gradually sets in that my life is drastically changing. Not to mention the fact that technically, I no longer have a home… or a job for that matter. Just a car full of clothes and music equipment driven by a heart that couldn’t take any more. Don’t get me wrong, the overwhelming feeling is positive, and I have faith everything will work out well, however… the deep stemming seed of worry lets its presence be known during briefly empty moments amidst the avid adventure. The ever-pressing ghost of Burden is whispering in my brain, “what if you run out of money?… what if its more of the same shit just a different toilet?… what if you never live the life you always wanted?…” After everything I’ve been through I’ve learned that there is nothing to grasp onto except a sense spirituality. I do believe in angels, otherwise known as nurturing beings with a higher vibration existing in another dimension, and their desire to help me fulfill my life’s purpose. To whom, or what, they serve, I can’t be sure of, but I know its been around since before religion and I have faith that it is innately good.
The deeper I ponder my ponderings I’m realizing that the primary thing I fear is having to work yet another unfulfilling job for an unfulfilling salary. Even though I know I may have to do this to start before I can move on to better things, I dread the experience, and pray that by some miracle I can circumvent this headache… worrying about being late… worrying about being able to pay bills… not being able to get past the basal needs in order to get to a place of surplus so I may give back to the community, family, friends, the world…. I suppose I put a lot of pressure on myself. I always have. I just always assumed everyone else was desiring and striving to make the world a better place. Little did I realize that most people are primarily concerned with security, material possessions, and endeavors that flatter the ego. Certainly, I am no saint, but I expected a little more. My aunt keeps reassuring me that I’ll find people and places with higher consciousness in my travels.
If ultimately I feel good about the future, then why the bouts of nausea and anxiety?…. Probably because I’ve felt like this many times before and was met with trauma and disaster. Maybe that’s a bit melodramatic, but you get the point.
I’m reading a book called Incognito. Its about the brain written by neurophysicist, David Eagleman. He often returns to the point that our brains create our reality, rather than experience reality that is “out there.” I’d always heard this among the metaphysical community, and it made an impact. However, to hear it from a scientific perspective, well, it stamps the notion even deeper. I work hard to control my mind in order to control my reality, but for anyone who’s ever been “out of their mind” knows that this is an extremely daunting task. I so crave peace in my mind, harmony in my body, and courage for my soul to express its ultimate potential.
I mentioned in my previous blog that I went to a car show during Marquette’s Seafood Fest. So for all you car lovers, here’s a gallery of a bunch of cool-looking old cars.
…Oh, and please don’t ask about the details because I’m no aficionado. I should’ve documented the make and model at the time as I went around, but alas, no can do. So just make it into a game- “Figure out what car that is!” (Then tell me. So I can post it and take the credit.)
Niiiiiiiiice
“Rat Rod” made out of a lawnmower
The only engine I took a picture of because it had a cartoon on it… can I BE any more of a stereotype
LOVE this. Chevy. The camera doesn’t pick it up, but the blue stripes are glittery!
this one makes me LOL
notice it says “cute” in gold above the grill
I love this one because its purple and it looks like it belongs in Roger Rabbit
Model T (I know this one!)
Another photo I’m dedicating to my friend, Bailey 🙂
So much awesomeness has come to pass, I’m sad I’m leaving in a couple of days. I’m surprised to say that Marquette may become a nominee in potential places to live. However, this is only the first stop. No getting ahead of myself. Right now I’d like to take a cursory look at the last few days… a 13 mile bike ride around the “almost-an-island,” a Seafood Fest that offered fancy surf ‘n turf, an antique car show, and a Pink Floyd tribute band complete with laser show, a sunbath and boat ride at the lake house, a trip to the eclectic farmer’s market, and relaxing acoustic music played by locals at the top floor of the Inn. Hmm… there’s so much to say… so many emotions to convey… how should I start?…. Ooh, I know! Video montage!
Ahhh. Wasn’t that nice? That Godiva chocolate martini was as good as it looked, in case you were wondering. Suffice to say, my vacation has gone above and beyond my greatest expectations, if I had ever had any really. I go back to Atlanta on wednesday, pack my car on thursday, and head out to New Orleans on friday. More blogtastic anecdotes ahead. But I’m still here. Suspended in crystal cool Great Lake bliss, falling asleep to my favorite book under a Yooper sun. (that’s how the folks here refer to the Upper Peh-nins-YOO-la)
Today my dad told me we’d take Lucy on a walk. “Its a casual walk,” he said. He lied. We trekked up Sugarloaf Mountain. There were many, many stairs. And I am out of shape. But, alas, after the first painful ten minutes I felt rejuvenated. It was 73 degrees with a breeze, and the view from the top was worth the sore glutes I’ll have in the morning.
It was mid-afternoon with nothing to do, so dad suggested we visit this beach with an island view. Its called Little Pesque Isle, because it branches off a large, skinny peninsula nearby called Pesque Isle. He assured me that THIS walk was mild. We only had to pass through a short path of trees and grassy dunes to get to this beach. We took our shoes off and walked in the crystal, cool surf. Such perfect weather up here, and the air feels clean (even the tap water is clean and tasty.) Then I noticed people walking out into the water to a nearby tiny island. It looked fun. Dad said, “too bad we didn’t bring our bathing suits.” I replied, “I don’t mind crossing in my clothes.” Turns out, neither did he, so we rolled up our pants and encouraged Lucy to swim along while we treaded the sandstone bar that lies about 1-3 feet below the surface of the water. She’s kind of a small dog who’s not a wonderful swimmer, but she pressed on like a champ. That little 11-year old rat terrier packs a ton of energy.
Once on the island, we found ourselves climbing a steep path yet again! I thought I’d be exhausted after a day like this, but I feel energized. I’ve been needing nature. Christine stopped by to have dinner then had to rush back to work. Dad grilled trout and potatoes. I also ate two corn on the cobs. I feel like everything tastes better in Marquette… hm, maybe I’m just glad to be out of Atlanta.
Dad and Christine finishing up dinner in the courtyard. Lucy on the stairs.
Tom Lakenen is a Finnish welder turned artist. He is also a rehabilitated alcoholic. I read that he sculpts all the things he saw while drinking. A park-goer might even ponder this notion without knowing that bit of trivia. Quirk and whimsy barely begin to describe this 40 acre park owned by Tom. Giant metal sculptures created solely by this 50-something artist is scattered throughout the wide dirt paths for people to walk, drive, bike, even snowmobile. The back entrance shown above is on one of the trails used for dog sledding in the winter. The park is open 24/7, and free to all. Well… not quite all. Mr. Lakenen used to keep his sculptures on his personal property, but people in charge of zoning didn’t like his “junk.” The constant combat with government agencies inspired the artist to purchase land elsewhere to show his prized works of art. You will now find the sign below in the driveway as a message to all those who were a thorn in his side for so long.
Mr. Lakenen’s impressive talent and quirky, sardonic humor is easy to see and warm to receive. Its high art, but its fun. And people of all ages with all kinds of artistic preferences will enjoy this park. My favorite attraction is the collection of cartoony wolves with prominent rib cages. Especially the one dancing with the blonde in a bikini. I wish I knew the story behind these. It must be interesting.
Here is a gallery of many of Tom Lakenen’s sculptures:
i have a thing for dead men
that thing is weird. so is the orange thing beneath it. har har har.
angry, chained junkyard dog! a park favorite
alligator made completely out of rebar
interactive mobile.
bowling balls
excited kid with textbook next to his telescope pointing to the stars.
uh-oh. is someone drowning in the pond? this is pretty clever 🙂
old bell rung by lighthouse keeper in foggy weather to help ships get to his dock
kid combing his hair in the “mirror.” this is awesome.
i love this one. reminds me a bit of Dali
this steel man stands about 20 feet tall
YESS!! i don’t know if you can tell, but the s-curve of the spine and leg is made of a bike chain i think
this is a stage where they somtimes hold live music at the sculpture park. one time, they had dancers dressed as fairies prance around the entire place while a drum circle played. sometimes they beat on the metal sculptures for different sounds. i woulda loved to see that
if youre curious about how tom does his work, he illustrates it nicely for you here. “easy as 1,2,3,4” ending with a crane lifting his famous wolf shape with the ribs popping out
i dedicate this to my friend Bailey
god is telling earth, “one more fight over there and i’m droppin yous”
enron’s “greed pig” pooping on “the average american worker”
I may have missed my flight, but the fun didn’t miss a beat. As soon as I got off the plane we drove straight to a Lake Superior harbor where a small cruise ship was waiting. (its not the above photo. That’s a ship we saw alongside us.) The local Greek Orthodox church was putting on a fund raiser. Support the church, and you get free Greek food and a two hour marine tour of the largest Great Lake. It was really nice. The weather was moderate and breezy, the food fresh and homemade by one of the church members- Tomato basil orzo, pita and hummus, the best spanakopita I’ve ever had, chicken kabobs, tzatziki for dipping, and lamb meatballs that I mistook for felafel. It was soft and juicy and oozing with aromatic spices, but i don’t eat a lot of meat. Especially not baby meat. I’m sorry ‘lil Lambchop!!
The following day we took a walk around downtown Marquette. The quaint yet cosmopolitan town is heavy with local artists and artisans. A buffet of interesting galleries and oddities line the streets that seem to all have a great lake view. (didja see what I did there?) We stopped at L’Attitude for an early dinner. Even though the warm weather beckoned a patio table, I was drawn to the excellent decor, cushy booths, candles, and high ceilings of the interior. We snacked on tempura battered asparagus, conch, and tuna tataki. The picture below includes me and my dad’s drinks- a cucumber basil martini, and a raspberry mojito.
We finished the day by watching the sun set at Christine’s lakehouse. (she’s my dad’s girlfriend.) I was instantly envious of this cozy, five story, secluded getaway. But then I was shown to “my” room with its own entrance and bathroom. Yay! I’m included! The lake is so huge, you can’t even tell its a lake. It feels like you’ve been instantly transported to the Gulf coast. Here’s a shot of the back deck and the view.
SpiralsAndEyes 